


Inferno

by Wafflesrock



Series: Ring of Fire [4]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Adoption, Angst with a Happy Ending, Battle, Espionage, Established Relationship, F/M, Family, Hurt/Comfort, Interspecies Sex, Knotting, Murder, True Love, Vaginal Sex, War, baby turian, descriptions of death and destruction, destroyed city
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-05-02 19:24:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 46,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14551722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wafflesrock/pseuds/Wafflesrock
Summary: Married and living on the turian colony world, Taetrus, Gwen and Tassius's bond is put to the test when the planet erupts in a bloody civil war. As both are pulled in different directions by honor and duty, they must put their faith and trust in each other in order to survive the chaos of the new battle front.Takes place during the events of ME2.





	1. The Vallum Blast

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Descriptions of a destroyed city and killed victims
> 
> Domina – A polite version of “Lady” used for people outside the military. Insinuates respect.
> 
> Gantu – An armored, pungent creature, native to Taetrus which fills a similar ecological niche to that of the American Opossum 
> 
> Flos – A type of beautiful, silver flower native to Palaven.

There were some people who were just born lucky. Gwen considered herself one of those people. Physically stunning, with a good education and wealthy family she wanted for nothing. Life had further bestowed upon her a fantastic career in the family weapons business and an adoring, doting husband with a prestigious military rank.

She might have been only one of a few thousand humans on Taetrus, but any racism she’d endured had been fleeting, and worth the irritation when she was received with love and welcome from her extended family.

She and Tassius had their own apartment close to the city center, and even if Tassius was currently on Palaven for some gathering, he was primarily stationed in Vallum and home with her in the evenings. 

Life, she reflected, had been good to her. And this was the fact she chose to focus on when Commander Cassius practically barged into her office at the Taetrus Military Depot to complain about the new contract she’d presented to him earlier that day.

“Ms. Malolin, you must be mistaken with these figures.” He began, striding over to her large work desk. Gwen could hear his subvocals buzzing in barely contained outrage. “This armor cannot possibly be worth so many credits!”

Sucking down a sigh at Tassius’s mentor, Gwen leaned forward in her chair and caught the Commander’s glinting blue eyes. “Commander, the Tempest Armor is specifically spec’d for turian biotics. The shielding technology – ”

“Yes, yes, I understand the effort and resources that went into its manufacture, and I read the report from your mate all but singing its praises but, be reasonable! There’s no way the Hierarcy is going to pay 3,000 credits per set!” The Commander crossed his arms and made to fix her with a glare, just as Fizzgig popped his head above the desk from his spot on Gwen’s lap.

“Is that a dog?” The Commander was immediately derailed, subharmonics tweeting in curiosity.

Gwen gave Fizzgig a few pats on his fuzzy head. “This is Fizzgig,” she told the Commander. “He normally spends the day with my in-laws, but Romulus had to visit the Radiatum and Cornelia has a headache.” She smiled down at the small dog. “So, he’s keeping me company today.”

 The Commander opened his mouth, likely to reprimand her about having a pet at an important military facility, but any comment was instantly forgotten as the entire dome shaped building was pushed and slammed by some unseen force. The small window in the room shattered, data pads, kiosks, and chairs were flung in a tornado of wood and metal as the floors attempted to buckle but were prevented from doing so by the steel framework of the building.

The chaos lasted but a minute, and as Gwen rose shakily to her feet she couldn’t understand what had happened. All the electricity appeared to be out, and from outside the small, broken window of her office, it looked like a massive dust cloud was preparing to crash over the central guard buildings and engulf them like a filthy tidal wave.

“Move now!” The Commander screamed surprisingly close to her. Gwen barely had enough time to scoop up Fizzgig before Commander Cassius had physically lifted her into his arms, and with a speed and agility surprising for his age, run down the stairs as the building shook with another rolling boom.

“Is it an earthquake?” Gwen yelled, still trying to piece together what was happening.

“We’re under attack!” The Commander roared as he rounded the staircase and came upon a group of soldiers and military personnel. “Battle stations now! Spirits _damn_ you all! Don’t you know an explosion when you feel it?”

The guards and other soldiers sprang into action, unholstering their weapons and charging off to their predetermined stations. The rest of the people immediately pulled up their omni-tools, trying to establish communication.

The Commander had yet to put Gwen down as he twirled around barking orders. “What do you mean we’re under attack?” Gwen said in a voice choked by disbelief and shock. _Who’s even capable of attacking the base?_ Her mind raced.

Remembering the small human and dog in his arms, the Commander gently set Gwen back on her feet. “Ms. Mal – Guinevere, listen to me. I don’t know what exactly is happening, but a massive bomb just went off. Likely in Vallum.” The older turian’s subvocals rumbled in a near silent plea. “I’m going to need your help. I need the passcode for the Hahne-Kedar armor and munitions currently stored in building E-19.”

“Of course,” Gwen said, still reeling from the news. Her omni-tool was not receiving any extra-net or other data connection, and she was forced to manually input the code to the Commander’s own tool.

As she gave over the requested code she noticed that dust and other particulate had begun to fill the air. It seeped through the broken windows and rose ever upward toward the ceiling, stinging her eyes and burning her nose. Fizzgig whimpered, and she tucked him inside her suit jacket in an attempt to shield him from the onslaught of cloying dirt.

“I need my armor,” she told the Commander who was giving instructions to a white plated female solider. Gwen squeezed her eyes shut against the relentless dust. At least in armor with a helmet her lungs and eyes would be spared inhaling anymore noxious debris.

The Commander coughed loudly into his hand, as he attempted to clear his throat. “Yes, of course,” he said waving a hand in the air in a futile attempt to clear it. “Lieutenant!”

A man with rust colored plates and clad in standard issue light armor trotted over. “Lieutenant Scartos, take Ms. Malolin to retrieve her armor and firearms from …” The Commander trailed off, rumbling to Gwen in question.

“In the armor bay,” Gwen coughed. “Building B-8.”

“Come with me _domina_ ,” the Lieutenant said, reaching out a hand which Gwen immediately took.

Outside, the sun was no longer a bright, happy presence. The sky was filled with a swirling cloud of ash, dirt and other particulate, muting the faint purple atmosphere and covering the world in a filthy shroud. Next to her, the Lieutenant clicked his mandibles in concern. “I don’t like this,” he muttered mostly to himself.

As the pair made their way to building B-8 and the Lieutenant opened the door, Gwen was more than grateful that these particular structures were windowless. Both she and Lieutenant Scartos inhaled the relatively clean air. Fizzgig pushed out of Gwen’s jacket and sneezed twice, with an equal look of relief in his large, black eyes.

Without needing guidance, Gwen headed for the stairs, knowing the elevators were still likely offline. As she ascended to the third floor, she veered off to the right and down a hall of lockers until she reached the one with her own armor. Setting Fizzgig down, Gwen started to strip out of her dress and suit jacket. The Lieutenant politely turned his head as she pulled on her under-armor and started to fasten on the pieces of her medium grade Ursa armor.

Once fully suited with her helmet securely affixed and pistol strapped to her leg, Gwen glanced around. Spotting the supply locker and rummaging through it, she pulled out a ventilated ammunition carrier large enough to put Fizzgig inside. “Sorry buddy, but this will keep your air clean, at least.” She told the small dog as she placed him inside and strapped the carrier to her back.

She thought she heard Fizzgig whine, but he settled into his temporary home quickly, and turning to the Lieutenant with a nod, the pair headed back out into the eerie brown twilight. They were greeted by the Commander at the front of the dome shaped Headquarters.

“Any developments, Commander?” The Lieutenant asked, a hopeful chirp in his subvocals.

“None,” the Commander stated bluntly. “We’re going to be sending a squadron of troops to the city. I want to know what’s happening there, and I want to know now.”

“I’m going too,” Gwen said stepping forward.

It was a testament to how grave the situation was that the Commander didn’t even raise a brow plate. “You are not going,” he replied. “You’re technically a civilian, and I’ll be damned if you interfere with this mission or worse, get yourself killed.”

Gwen narrowed her eyes as her mouth drew into a razor thin line. Not that the Commander could see any of this through her helmet. “I am going, _Cato_. Because as you pointed out, I’m not a soldier, I’m a civilian contractor, and thus I’m not obligated to follow _your_ orders.”

The Commander growled low in his throat; a dark, angry sound that had the Lieutenant stepping backward. “Don’t test me Guinevere.” He said through strained vocals.

Switching tactics, Gwen moved closer to the old man. “Cato,” she said softly. “You know I can’t stay here. My father-in-law was at the Radiatum. If something happened – ”

“You’ll be the first to know,” the Commander said in a gentler tone. “But we don’t even know what has happened. We have no communication with the city and need to ascertain what the situation is. Once we know, you can leave the base.” He took a step back, considering the matter finished.

Gwen watched as he walked off toward a Landcruiser being loaded with soldiers and munitions. _There’s more than one way out of here_ , she thought resolutely. She waited until the Lieutenant turned away before quietly slinking around the Headquarters office. There was a cruiser bay for small ground shuttles and skycars at the back of the facility, and she just so happened to have the access codes.

Finding the bay unoccupied, Gwen ran over to the nearest shuttle. It was small and wouldn’t be immediately missed as it was likely used for quick transport of one or two people to the city.

Opening the door, she set the carrier with Fizzgig in the passenger seat, though she didn’t open it. Should something happen, she wanted to be able to grab him and get out hastily.

Powering up the silver vehicle, Gwen started to form her escape plan. The Commander and squadron of soldiers were leaving through the front entrance. The back entrance was likely now heavily guarded with soldiers on all the turrets. To get out the rear exit, she’d need to think of a good story for leaving. _Since communications are down, no one can really fact-check me_ , she considered. As she turned the shuttle toward the back entrance she glanced over her shoulder, thrilled at not being discovered.

Weaving her way through the maze of austere, cube shaped buildings, she reached the back exit and found it was swarming with guards. Mind racing, she slowed her pace and lowered the window to address the helmeted solider who had hurried over to meet here.

“Ms. Malolin, no one is to leave the base,” the solider recited to her.

“I have to get to Vallum immediately,” Gwen said. “There was a huge shipment of firearms at the City Spaceport, enough to equip a small army, including high grade explosives. I’m the only one who knows what docking bay they’re at and the Commander is obviously occupied with other matters, so I’m supposed to handle it.”

Gwen was grateful, for perhaps the first time, that she didn’t possess subharmonics. While turians used their second larynxes to sing sweet love songs and have silent conversations, they also unconsciously expressed a wide range of emotions – making them notoriously bad liars. Humans, for better or worse, were highly skilled at deception, and she could see that the solider had taken her at face value – not even bothering to ask why she was leaving via the back entrance instead of the front – when he waved her through the open gate.

She felt a small pang of guilt for lying to the hapless guard who would likely get a thorough dressing down later, but she had to find her family. Romulus, Cornelia and Livia were all in Vallum, or else nearby. She needed to know they were safe. Needed to see what was happening for herself, and if possible, help.

As she sped toward the city some twenty miles away, she formed a grid in her mind. She’d look for Romulus first. He was downtown, at the Radiatum, the building that served as Taetrus’s parliament office, filing paperwork to allow him to trap the Gantu. He’d started to suspect the creature was nesting and had been beside himself at the thought of more armored beasts defecating on his porch and digging up his garden.

Gwen hummed to herself as the rocky terrain gave way to buildings. But they were not intact. The nearer she drew to the city center, the worse the landscape became, and the higher off the road she had to fly. Most buildings were nearly evaporated; steel melted and warped until they were mere caricatures of the beautiful structures they’d once been. Cement chunks littered the streets, and everywhere was rubble, rebar, and glass, with ash and dirt falling heavily like a demonic rain.

Worse were the people. Those that could stand appeared disoriented and bathed in a deep cobalt blue. But more frequently were the forms that had once been turian slumped on the ground or covered with rock and metal. She didn’t look at these too closely but tightened her grip on the shuttle’s steering wheel and set her jaw.

She slowed her speed as she drew closer to the Radiatum. Where the grand, elegant government building had once stood was nothing but smoldering rubble. Gwen slowly sank into her seat as the full magnitude of what she was seeing – or not seeing as the case was – began to hit her. The Primarch’s executive building, the Signis, looked like it had been vaporized, replaced by a deep pit of pitch. The familiar museums and the statues that defined the center of town were likewise only a memory; replaced with charred metal and scorched earth as far as her eye could see.

Gwen didn’t exit the small ship. She knew there was nothing to find among the heaps of rubble but death. No one, _nothing_ , could survive whatever had happened here. She sat in stunned silence, gazing out over the hazy mountains of debris and rubble. Burial mounds for the unfortunate souls who had once filled their interiors. _Like Romulus_ , her mind whispered, and she bit back a sob.

No. She had to have hope. Maybe he’d finished his errand and already gone home to help Cornelia? Still in shock at the ruin around her, she turned the shuttle around and drove at breakneck speed out of the now black pit of despair.

The Malolins lived roughly seven miles outside the city proper, and Gwen prayed to every deity and Spirit she knew that this meant that the family home was still standing. Though as she noted upon leaving the city, everything within a six-mile radius appeared to have been utterly destroyed. _What kind of bomb is powerful enough to do that?_ Her mind questioned. Whatever it was, her suit hadn’t warned her of any radioactivity at least.

As the eviscerated houses and buildings began to thin and she approached the hill where her in-laws lived, she felt her hopes wane. The family’s Bed and Breakfast was still standing, but not entirely. Gwen lowered the shuttle and hopped outside, mindful of the wood, rock and cement that had been tossed out toward the street.

The left side and rear walls of the house were collapsed, and it looked like every window was broken. Walking around the back of the house, Gwen froze. The rubble had been blown inward, smashing and destroying everything inside like high-powered shrapnel. The kitchen was hardly recognizable, and as Gwen carefully clambered over pieces of furniture and debris, she was acutely aware that part of the roof hadn’t collapsed yet, and might well do so, burying her under it if she wasn’t careful.

Drawn by an unknown force, Gwen headed for the front of the house and the stairs. The staircase was torn and mangled, but still functional, and as she approached the room where the left exterior wall had fallen inward she subconsciously whimpered. Forcing herself to enter what had once been her in-law’s bedroom, she froze. Rock, steel and splintered wood filled the space, requiring her to scale mountains of refuse to fully get inside.

Activating the scanners on her armor, Gwen sucked down another sob as her sensors registered no life forms. Frantically searching, Gwen hoped that maybe Cornelia had gone outside for some fresh air. But, when her eyes landed on the three-fingered hand and arm buried under a colossal pile of stone and smashed wooden beams her mind screeched to a halt.

She moved as though underwater. Her movements felt slow, and her progress at pulling off the refuse covering the prone figure on the floor even slower. Though, she must have been working fast, because she was panting and sweaty by the time she’d finally exposed the crushed face and cracked plates of her beautiful mother-in-law.

Cornelia was a luminous, captivating woman, with bright orange eyes that always reminded Gwen of autumn back on Earth. The cold, lifeless orbs that greeted her now were no longer the woman she knew.

Softly, she reached out and closed the turian woman’s eyelids, averting her own gaze from the thin trail of blue that ran down the lifeless mouth. “You were the best mother-in-law in the universe,” she whispered.

Somehow, without fully realizing it, Gwen threaded her way back through the upheaval of what had once been Tassius’s childhood home. She found herself outside once more, staring at the _Flos_ flowers in Romulus’s garden. Despite being covered in dust, they still rose; a luminous silver above the decay and filth. Sinking to her knees, she gently rolled onto her side and let herself be consumed by grief. _Gone_ , her mind cried with her. _They’re both gone_. Her body heaved and wracked with sobs, her tears cutting rivers down her face she couldn’t wipe due to her helmet. She knew she wailed and cursed but couldn’t truly know what she was saying.

A timeless eternity later, she forced herself to her feet, her body weak with exhaustion. She pulled herself into the shuttle once more and sat staring at Cornelia’s tomb. In her heart of hearts, she knew Romulus was gone, too. She closed her eyes.  “I’m so sorry,” she said to no one.

A yip from the ammunition carrier drew her attention and remembering Fizzgig, she opened the lid and allowed her pet to hop out and into her lap. He’d peed inside the carrier at some point and his fur was damp and probably smelled wretched, but Gwen didn’t care. Pulling off her helmet she buried her face in Fizzgig’s orange fur as he whined and licked at the tears still lingering on her face.

She held him until the already blighted light turned a deeper sepia, signaling nightfall. She still needed to ascertain if Livia was alright. Her brilliant sister-in-law was stationed at a military fort, fifteen miles from the city, and Gwen hoped that the greater distance meant that she was alive and unharmed.

For now, though, she hunkered into the drivers’ seat of the small ship, pulling Fizzgig close. If she was capable of sleep, she needed it. Tomorrow, as soon as she could, she’d dig through the kitchen rubble to find food and water for herself and Fizzgig, and then make for Fort Clipeum. With any luck, communication would be restored, and she could speak with Tassius.

Sighing anxiously, Gwen adjusted her position as Fizzgig cuddled close to her. Outside her window, dust continued to fall, and she watched until her vision faded, and sleep finally claimed her.

**********

She couldn’t be entirely sure when the sun had risen, but when she opened her eyes, she was no longer greeted by a sky filled with dust. The nighttime winds had apparently dispersed most of the airborne particulate, and the Taetrun sun shone down on her borrowed shuttle with an unusual intensity.

Gwen raised a hand to shade her eyes against the glare, as Fizzgig began to whimper. Gwen gave him a reassuring pet before opening the shuttle door and stepping out into the thick air. She didn’t need her helmet any longer to breath, but the air smelled repulsive; somehow corrupt, with lingering scents of ash and other things she didn’t want to think about.

She worked quickly, allowing Fizzgig to relieve himself before putting him back in the shuttle and walking into the destroyed kitchen. She was fortunate to find some levo jerky and water canteens where the pantry had once stood but was unable to find any dog food. Sighing, she hoped the small dog wouldn’t get a stomach ache from the dehydrated meat and went back to the ship.

As she and Fizzgig ate their meager breakfast, Gwen checked her omni-tool and was startled to see she had power. It wasn’t strong enough to send an off-world signal, but she could try to reach Livia.

Forgetting her appetite, Gwen hurriedly typed out a message to the younger turian and waited with bated breath as her message registered as sent. She stared at her tool, willing a response. When none came, she lowered her arm with a sharp intake of breath.

A soft ping stopped her before she could cry.

 

**L. Malolin [Planet Taetrus, Mactare System]**

**0706**

**Gwen! You’re alright! Spirits, I’ve been worried sick! Where are you?**

**G. Malolin [Planet Taetrus, Mactare System]**

**0709**

**Liv! Thank God! I’m at the house. I… We need to talk in person. But what happened?**

 

 **L.** **Malolin [Planet Taetrus, Mactare System]**

**0713**

**Terrorist attack. Someone crashed a ship at FTL speed into the Radiatum. My superiors don’t know exactly who did it, but there’s apparently multiple groups vying to take credit. Meet me at Fort Clipeum as soon as you can.**

Vigor renewed, Gwen powered up her borrowed shuttle. Livia was safe. She clung to that fact as images of Cornelia haunted her waking mind.

She breathed out a sigh as she headed south, toward Livia and with any luck, answers.


	2. Discoveries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Descriptions of a destroyed city and killed victims
> 
> Nothi – A colloquial Taetrun word, basically means “bastard”
> 
> Fulgur Manus – Translated, means “lightning talons” and is a hand-to-hand combat technique used by turian biotics where their energy is focused into their claws for ripping, slashing attacks.

There was something about the feel of electricity in the air that always left Tassius irritable. His own biotics would spark and surge in response to the tumult in the atmosphere, requiring him to either meditate and focus on his control, or else release some of the pent-up energy.

It was one thing to be the youngest General at the Palaven Summit, but another to also be the only biotic. His peers had noticed that the air around him was heavily charged and that blue energy had crackled from behind his eyes when that _nothi_ General Titus had made a snide remark about trusting him with information. Tassius growled at the memory. _How many centuries need to pass before biotics aren’t regarded with suspicion and distrust?_ He silently fumed.

Regardless of public opinion, he was a General and needed to act like it. As Tassius exited the dining area of the large building where the summit was being held and headed back to his assigned hotel room, he considered his options. His mind was far too wired and alert to meditate; a spar was the best form of release for both his stress and biotics.

His talons twitched in anticipation as he messaged Kabalim Vatian. None of the other Generals would spar with him in this state and he couldn’t blame them. He needed to drain his biotics and there was no more perfect way then a biotic duel. Talons, teeth and plate cracking electrical surges were what his body needed, and he could only hope that his former superior was likewise tormented by the looming storm, and available.

When he received a reply that the Kabalim was more than willing to spar with him at the local gym, and in fact was already there, Tassius quickly stripped out of his armor and into the lightweight mesh turians favored for exercise. He had once owned an orange and a black set of mesh, but he suspected Gwen had thrown the orange set away. Her distain for the fabric “clashing with his plates” was no secret, and his orange workout gear had mysteriously vanished over the last few weeks, replaced with a teal version.

Tassius shook his head as he walked out the door, taking only a water canteen with him. Tomorrow would be his last day on Palaven, before he could return home to his beautiful mate. He squashed down a lewd purr at thoughts of his homecoming as he entered the adjacent gymnasium and headed for the thick, acrylic walled sparing cubicles.

An older turian man with faded pewter plates and a broken center fringe spike rose from his position leaning against the wall to greet him.

“Ah, General Malolin,” the Kabalim grinned. “The storm have you tasting ozone, too?”

Tassius rumbled in irritation at the metallic tang on his tongue. “Yes. But nothing a good spar can’t remedy.” He smiled at his former leader as the pair stepped inside a cubicle and shut the door.

Stretching out his limbs, Tassius focused his biotics into his hands, charging his talons with energy. _Fulgar Manus_ was a difficult technique to master, and only those with exemplary control over their abilities could ever hope to use the method effectively.

Tassius walked out to the middle of the room, fingers glowing a dangerous blue, as Kabalim Vatian mirrored his stance. The air went still, overcharged with energy, before it cracked like thunder and the Kabalim threw a well-controlled biotic lance toward Tassius. Dodging the oncoming energy beam, Tassius charged the older turian, propelling himself forward with his own biotics.

The Kabalim was no fool, however, and quickly enveloped himself in a biotic shield, forcing Tassius to peel off from his attack, toe talons cutting into the wooden floor. Regrouping, Tassius used both hands to pulse and pry into the biotic shield, forcing a tear in the barrier before surging his power and ripping through entirely.

Defenses breached, the Kabalim pushed back against his assailant, only to have his efforts thrown off and rerouted as Tassius closed in for the final assault. Biotically pulling the Kabalim closer, Tassius slashed at him with electric claws until the older man threw up his hands and exposed his neck.

“I yield!” The Kabalim panted.

Stepping back, Tassius relaxed his energy.

“Spirits Tassius, here I thought your promotion might make you go soft,” the Kabalim laughed. “You weren’t one of our best for nothing.”

Tassius purred softly at the praise. “Thank you, Horas, but I’m not done yet.”

“You always were my strongest, most dogged solider,” the Kabalim said before pulsing his energy once more. Unlike his previous attack, the Kabalim waited this time, forcing Tassius to make the first move.

Twirling in a biotic torrent, Tassius charged once more, letting the fiery, whirling electricity of his annihilation field snap off the Kabalim’s barrier before slamming into him at full force. The Kabalim’s feet skidded backward but he remained upright, pushing Tassius back.

As Tassius fought to regain his balance, the Kabalim charged, talons electrified and poised for a slashing attack. Tassius threw up a barrier and narrowly avoided a direct hit to his chest. Pulling back his right arm, he aimed a punch at the older man’s waist, only for the Kabalim’s left hand to shoot down and block him.

 The two biotics jabbed, dodged, and parried in a sparking dance of energy. Both were equally matched in terms of skill, but Tassius had youth and stamina on his side. When the Kabalim inevitably began to flag – his age beginning to show in his slower movements – Tassius seized the opening and striking upward with the talons of his left hand, he used his right hand to throw his opponent into the thick glass of the wall.

He rushed over to the fallen man, only for the Kabalim to raise a hand in defeat. “I yield,” he said breathlessly, dropping his arm back down to his side. “Spirits, I’m getting too old to spar with you anymore.”

Tassius leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees as he also fought to catch his breath. “You’re the only one strong enough to provide me with a challenge,” he chuckled, allowing the pride to slip into his subvocals.

As he helped Kabalim Vatian to his feet, Tassius turned and noticed that the pair had attracted more than a few spectators. He doubted that the interest was entirely scholarly, and the looks of wariness and mistrust painted across several faces had him pulling his mandibles in tight to his face.

 _If you don’t like what you see than don’t watch!_ He growled out subvocally.

 _Ignore them._ His former superior admonished, pulling Tassius’s attention back. “They aren’t worth the effort.” The Kabalim shrugged, walking over to where he had set down his own water.

Tassius knew the older man was right, but all the attention on him and his biotics had him itching to return to Taetrus. He was still a biotic there, but his rank and the prestige that came with it was enough to overshadow his other attributes.

“Tassius?” The Kabalim was staring intently at his omni-tool. “I think you need to turn on your news feed.”

The grave concern and actual fear in the older man’s speech and vocals had Tassius immediately pulling up his tool.

 _Taetrus' Capital Obliterated After Blast_ flashed across his tool, followed closely by the even more devastating headline _Death Toll on Taetrus Continues to Rise_ with holo photos of downtown Vallum – or what had been downtown Vallum – blackened and choked with rubble.

Time stopped as Tassius stared at the news, not fully comprehending the words he was reading about a terrorist attack.

“Tassius? Tassius, are you alright?”

Forcing himself to look at the Kabalim, Tassius tried and failed to tamp down on the nervous whine emanating from his throat. “I need to go back to my hotel room,” he managed to get out. “I have…” he trailed off. Clamping his mandible to his face, he straightened his posture. “I need to contact General Aurelos at once.” He said, radiating a confidence he did not currently possess.

The Kabalim nodded slowly. “Yes, of course.” He said. “Tass – General Malolin, if you need anything, I am more than happy to help in any way I can.”

“Thank you,” Tassius acknowledged with a bow, before hurriedly making his way out of the sparring area and to the gym exit.

As soon as his hotel room door closed behind him, he tried to call Gwen, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His vid-call was terminated before it could even begin. Humming in anxiety, he tried again, only to meet with the same result.

He next tried to call his mother, and then father and sister, only to be greeted with static and the unhelpful message of “call failed.”

He was pacing at this point, subharmonics wailing in frustration and distress, when his tool displayed an incoming vid-call. Answering immediately, Tassius was both dismayed and relieved to see the face of General Timus Aurelos, his direct superior on Taetrus and the man who had originally promoted him to the rank of General.

“General Malolin.” His commanding General’s voice was tense, and Tassius felt himself assume parade rest. “Vallum has been attacked,” the other man stated bluntly. “We are still trying to find the responsible parties; fourteen separatist groups are claiming responsibility at this time.” The General’s subvocals buzzed angrily. “I need you to return to Taetrus immediately, I have already informed the Chief of Staff for the summit that you will be departing on the next available transit.”

“Yes, Sir.” Tassius responded, mentally cataloguing what he’d need to do.

“Very good.” The General responded. “The cowards who did this will have no safe harbor anywhere in the galaxy. They will be found, they will be killed, and their twisted labors will come to nothing.” The older Generals’ eyes flashed with barely concealed rage as the call ended.

Tassius moved like a man possessed. He quickly changed into light armor before neatly packing all his clothing, armor and other personal effects and heading out the hotel door. The room had become stifling and he needed to reach the spaceport. Hailing a skycab outside, Tassius labored to ignore the news and images flashing all around him on every large screen.

If his hotel room had been bad, the spaceport was worse. While he awaited his transport, every vidscreen in the station was playing an interview with Idus Valen, the newly appointed Primarch of Taetrus. Tassius dimly recalled that Idus had been the Minister of Agriculture. He shivered involuntarily at the implication. _How many superiors had to die for Idus to advance so many tiers?_ He wondered with a mix of horror and morbid curiosity.

Pulling up his omni-tool he tried again to call Gwen, only to meet with frustrating failure. His attempts to message other family members were likewise instantly returned. Sighing in temporary defeat, he turned his eyes back to the vidscreen and talk of a death toll rivaling that of the Battle for Digeris.

 _Spirits of Taetrus, please. Let Gwen be safe. Let my family be alive._ He silently prayed, more alone surrounded by throngs of people then he’d ever felt in his life.

_Please…_

**********

The air on Taetrus was always hot and dry. The earth, trees – even the water — seemed baked. Coupled with the brilliant, unnatural glow from the sun, Gwen was left with a sense that she was living in some sort of doomsday land.

She sighed as she stared out over the bustling, noisy grounds of Fort Clipeum. Livia had wanted to be alone for a while, to process and come to terms with the loss of her parents. Gwen closed her eyes at the memory of the tear-soaked conversation with her sister-in-law.

At least Livia had closure. From the reports pouring into the Fort, there were thousands of people still reported missing and it was unlikely all their bodies would ever be found. Gwen frown, remembering the crater where the Radiatum had once stood. Would her father-in-law’s remains even be recognizable? She shook her head, willing away the terrible thought. 

While she was aware the military had been communicating with Palaven and other colonies, private data access was not slated to happen until later that afternoon. Determined to be at least a little useful in the meantime rather than stuck at the Fort, miserable and useless, Gwen sought out Lieutenant Scartos, who had been placed in charge of organizing the rescue and reclamation efforts taking place in the Vallum.

Hoping he wasn’t too upset at her for ditching him at the Military Depot the day prior, Gwen approached and waited until he was finished speaking with another solider. “Lieutenant,” Gwen bowed politely. “If you’re organizing a search party for this morning, I’d like to volunteer to help.”

The Lieutenant clicked his mandibles at her, in what Gwen had started to assume was a nervous tick. “Ms. Malolin. The Commander is extremely displeased you disobeyed him and left the base,” he said.

 _You don’t sound too thrilled either,_ Gwen thought, forcing herself to maintain eye contact with the Lieutenant. “I am aware.” She said. “But right now, you need all the help you can get. I’ll speak with the Commander and apologize later.” Tilting her head back in a turian display of submission, Gwen asked again. “Please, let me help.”

The Lieutenant rumbled in thought before nodding his head. “Very well,” he conceded. “But,” he hastened to add before Gwen could look too pleased. “If you don’t follow my orders, I’ll _personally_ make sure you’re confined to the Fort until further notice.”

“Understood,” Gwen replied. “And Lieutenant Scartos? Thank you.”

The Lieutenant bowed back to her, his amber eyes looking somewhat friendlier as he turned and walked off to address a small group of soldiers.

In the meantime, Gwen busied herself as best she could, cleaning her armor and attending to Fizzgig. The small dog had become an instant hit with the non-combatant personnel, and one of the communications technicians had volunteered to watch him while Gwen joined the search party.

Assured her pet would be well cared for, Gwen joined a squad of roughly twenty men and women headed for Vallum. Piling into a ground shuttle, the ride over the rubble and debris strewn highway was notably quiet, save for some anxious subvocals and the Lieutenant’s admonishments that the search party were to work in pairs and not separate under any circumstances.

Upon reaching the outskirts of the main blast, Lieutenant Scartos hopped down from the shuttle and clasping his hands behind his back, addressed his team. “Haemona Medical Center is currently overrun with patients.” He said. “Any injured survivors are to be brought back to the shuttle for immediate transport to Fort Clipeum. Leave the dead, for now, but report their location for later extraction.”

The team made various noises of acknowledgment before dispersing into the dust covered wreckage of the city. Gwen and a bronze plated female solider headed for what had once been a restaurant. The brightly frescoed walls were littered in chunks all over the road with exposed pipes leaking water and some other noxious smelling fluid.

Gwen checked the seals on her helmet, making sure they were latched, before slowly picking her way through the piles of stone and cement. She painstakingly scanned larger mounds of rubble for life-signs, before upturning all the stone she could to check for bodies, of which she found several. Marking their locations for later removal, she and her partner widened their search grid.

As Gwen moved to scour a particularly large pile of building material that had been blown into the street, her scanner blipped. Gwen gasped softly, running her arm back over the twisted iron and rebar, only to have her hopes dashed when her program registered no vital signs. _Fucking equipment error,_ she thought bitterly.

Lowering her arm, she set to moving aside as much concrete and metal as she could. She wasn’t even surprised when her efforts reveled the broken, mutilated figure of a male turian. His clothes were stiff with dried blood and filth, and it looked like he’d been impaled through the back by a large steel pipe. Sighing in dismay, Gwen went to catalogue his location, just as she noticed he was lying on something.

Creasing her brow in confusion, she redoubled her efforts to clear away the rock and rubble until she saw the form of another body. This one was a female turian, and Gwen’s heart clenched as she realized that this was likely the man’s mate.

Lowering to her knees, Gwen took in the small tragedy; the man attempting to shield his wife with his own body. _Tassius would have done the same for me_ , she thought, the sting of tears threatening to break through her tight control. Reaching out, she moved shattered glass and rock off the woman’s neck and face, hoping it’d make her easier to identify.

As she swept the debris off her cowl, something moved under the woman’s neck scarf. Gwen tore her hand back in shock. The scarf lifted and rose again, and Gwen thought she heard a faint cheeping sound. Cautiously moving her hand back, Gwen pulled on the scarf, untangling it from the owner’s neck.

Her gasp was not quiet this time. Clumsily turning to peek at her from inside it’s mother’s cowl, a tiny turian chick with sepia colored plates, covered in a white fluffy down, looked back at her with large, blue eyes.

Without a second thought, Gwen ripped off her greaves and helmet as she gently picked the chick out of it’s would-be tomb and held it close to her face. It was so small. She hadn’t seen too many turian chicks while living in Vallum, but she’d encountered enough to know that this one was barely a year old given the amount of feathering.

The chick reached out an impossibly tiny three fingered hand to grab at her nose, as it made a cheeping sound Gwen associated with hunger. “You hungry baby?” She asked it.

The chick regarded her, clearly not understanding a word she’d said and intrigued by the distinctly non-turian voice. “It’s okay,” she cooed. “I’ll get you some food and water.”

The chick purred softly, twitching its small mandibles at her in an action that made Gwen giggle. Slowly, she brought the chick up to nuzzle her forehead with its own small one. “You’re safe now,” she promised as she cradled the infant protectively in the crook of her arm.

Glancing around and not seeing the female solider, Gwen moved to place her helmet back on before standing up, holding her greaves in her left hand. “I guess we need to head back to the shuttle,” she mused out loud. The chick made a gentle hooting sound as Gwen held it more firmly to her chest and began to walk.

Her footsteps seemed lighter, somehow, even though she’d been working for several hours. When she approached Lieutenant Scartos at his place overseeing radio dispatch, she didn’t even register the look of irritation on his face.

“Lieutenant, I – ”

“Where is officer Nessa?” The Lieutenant cut her off. “I told you on the drive over not to seperate  or leave your assigned partner under any – ”

“I found a baby!” Gwen snapped, pulling the chick closer.

The Lieutenant’s eyes shot down to the tiny, fluffy chick in her arms, his mandibles dropping in bewilderment. “Where did you find him?” He finally choked out, moving closer to investigate the little miracle held securely to Gwen’s chest.

“He was buried under a few feet of rubble. Inside his mother’s cowl.” Gwen replied, looking down at the chick.

“I see,” the Lieutenant said with a subharmonic whine for the tragic fate of the chick’s parents. “Head back to the shuttle, this infant will need an immediate checkup and medical assessment at the Fort.”

“Can I go with him?” Gwen asked, eyes pleading behind her helmet.

The Lieutenant hesitated for a moment before nodding his head. “Yes, you may. See to it that he receives immediate medical care.”

Gwen bowed to the Lieutenant before walking up to the shuttle pilot, who seemed just as awestruck by the chick as his superior. Removing her helmet as the shuttle prepared to return to the Fort, Gwen smiled down at the baby. She decided that the chick was the cutest infant of any species she’d ever seen. Bending her head down to nuzzle the little boy once more, she repeated her promise from earlier; “I’ll take care of you little guy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I the only one who HC's turian babies have fuzz on them like some Earth birds? It's a pretty cute thought.  
> Feel free to say hello on Tumbr: @wafflesrock16


	3. Revelations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Parvus – Palaveni word for “tiny one” or “lovely small thing,” used often for babies

“You’re hurting him!” Gwen loudly accused the ancient looking doctor back at Fort Clipeum as the old woman bent the chick’s legs this way and that.

The chick wailed and shrieked, and it took all of Gwen’s will power not to rush over and defend the helpless baby from his tormentor.

“I am not hurting him, Ms. Malolin,” the doctor replied without turning her head. “I’m affirming that none of his bones are fractured.” She clicked her mandibles against her weathered face plates several times before finally handing the chick back to Gwen.

Gwen pressed her face against the infant’s own, shushing him as she tried to remember some lullaby or song from her own childhood. In the end, she found herself repeating “hush little baby” over and over.

“He’s dehydrated and needs food.” The doctor proclaimed before pulling out a syringe with a needle that looked more like a knife blade.  

Gwen’s eyes bulged as she tucked the already upset chick closer to her face. “What is that for?” She asked.

“Fluids,” the doctor replied before gesturing to Gwen to hand the chick over once more. Gwen hesitated as the infant squealed and clutched at her braided hair.

The doctor sighed in exasperation. “If he doesn’t receive fluids immediately, he will go into organ failure,” she informed Gwen.

Reluctantly, Gwen handed over the crying chick. The look of fear and betrayal in his crystalline eyes made her heart clench. “I’m sorry baby, but it’ll be over soon.” She promised.

The doctor injected the chick with the massive needle –  which Gwen noted was necessary given the armor plating on his arms – before rubbing his back and purring softly.

Handing the chick back to Gwen, the doctor moved off to another part of the exam room. “Is he done?” Gwen asked hopefully.

“For now,” the old woman replied walking back over and handing Gwen a bag of exotic looking items. “These,” the doctor explained, “are to care for him until he can be relocated to an orphanage. Due to the recent influx of children, he might be staying on base for some time.”

Gwen examined the contents of the bag. The turian version of diapers were clear enough in function, as were the tubes of dextro meat paste. Some of the other things she would need to ask Livia about. When Gwen glanced back to the doctor, she found the woman staring at her intently.

“I’m correct in assuming you will be his caretaker until he can be taken in elsewhere?” She asked.

Gwen blinked. In truth, she hadn’t really thought this through. But, as the chick settled in against her neck with a soft chirp, the answer fell from her lips without more scrutiny. “Of course. I’ll make sure he’s well cared for.”

The doctor tilted her head to examine Gwen in that almost avian way turians had about them. “Very good,” she said before shooing Gwen out the door.

Stepping out into the hallway, Gwen wasn’t immediately sure what to do. However, the chick appeared exhausted from his medical ordeal, and so Gwen resolved to take him back to her temporary barracks after she collected Fizzgig.

Heading to the communications office, she found the small dog sniffing at a technician’s boot. “Here Gig!” She called.

Fizzgig immediately ran over, small tongue lolling out and a look of pure elation on his small face. But, he stopped short before Gwen could scoop him up. Cautiously, he twitched his nose over the tiny creature in Gwen’s arms before looking to her with questioning eyes.

“Gig, this is…” Gwen trailed off. She had no way of ascertaining what the chick’s name was since both his parents were dead. She wondered if any of the baby’s extended family was alive, and if not, what that would mean for him.

Fizzgig sneezed before eyeing the chick once more. “This is Brutus.” Gwen declared to her pet, stroking a finger gently over the baby’s back. “You know, like that ancient Palavani emperor Tassius idolizes.”

Gwen looked up and noticed she had attracted some attention. Standing, one of the female technicians walked over to her. The woman made a soft, chirping coo at Brutus before looking to Gwen. “Are his parents dead?” She asked.

Gwen nodded. “Yea, I found him in his mother’s cowl. Both she and who I assume was his father are gone.”

The technician trilled sadly. “Such a waste of life.” She said. “He’s young though, he’ll likely be adopted soon. When does he go to the orphanage?”

Gwen shrugged, mindful of the now sleeping chick. “Don’t know. Most of the orphanages and medical centers are over capacity.” Gwen affectionately rubbed her cheek against Brutus. “I don’t mind caring for him though. He’s pretty cute.”

 _But you’re a human_ , the technician rumbled subvocally, not realizing Gwen could understand.

“So what if I’m a human?” Gwen said defensively. “That doesn’t mean I can’t love and care for a baby turian.”

The technician looked startled for a moment, but rather than apologizing, she pinched her mandibles to her face to stare at Gwen. “He’s not a Chier, he’s a blue blooded turian who lost his real parents.” She said incredulously. “He should be with other turians.”

Gwen felt her nostrils flare as she bit back any loud noise of derision. “Cross species adoption is common place you xenophobic bitch.” Gwen seethed in a low whisper. “And if you really think he’s better off in some overcrowded orphanage with limited resources just because its “turian,” rather than with someone who can provide for him and make him feel safe and loved than you’re a xenophobe _and_ an idiot.”

“You’re a selfish, arrogant human!” The technician spat. “And I promise you that I’ll personally make sure that this chick is handed over to the rightful _turian_ authorities.” She made to reach for the sleeping baby as Fizzgig snarled at Gwen’s feet, furry heckles raised and teeth bared, picking up on Gwen’s own fury.

What happened next was pure instinct; Gwen drew her pistol and aimed it point blank at the turian woman’s face. “If you so much as even _touch_ my son, I’ll blast a hole through that empty cavity in your head where your brain should be, rip off your mandibles, and wear them like a fucking necklace.”

The technician slowly raised her hands and backed away from the firearm pointed between her eyes. The rest of the room had gone completely silent as the other personnel took in the scene, though notably, no one made a move to do anything. 

Cocking her gun toward the ceiling, Gwen turned on her heel – Fizzgig in tow – and left the communications office. Brutus needed a nap, and she needed to calm down. It wasn’t until she had the baby tucked into a makeshift nest of blankets and had settled down into her own bed with Fizzgig that she realized the implications of her words with the raciest tech.

She turned to look at Brutus’s peaceful, sleeping face. All his little facial plates were relaxed as his fluffy down covering rustled lightly in the breeze from the cooling unit.

_What will you say, Tass, when I tell you we have a son?_

**********

The humans had a word and even a place to describe his current situation: Hell. A place of fire and brimstone and eternal suffering. Trapped in his lavish quarters onboard a transport ship destined for Taetrus, Tassius truly felt like he was in hell.

His biotics were constantly surging with stress and anxiety and nothing he tried seemed to calm them. His missed Gwen the way a body missed a lost limb; a constant, dull ache in his chest and the persistent feeling of emptiness when he forced himself to try and sleep.

Worse still was when he thought of his family. He’d been able to contact Gwen and Livia two days ago, and the news of his parents… Well. He’d heard one or two crewmen refer to him as “cold” when the news became general knowledge, but if he appeared disinterested with the deaths of his mother and father, it was only so he could remain focused on his duty. To dwell on what had happened to them would destroy him, and there was no time for grief in war.

Alone in his room, Tassius continued to pour over news reports in the same detached way one would read about a new fashion trend over kava. Investigators in Vallum had narrowed the list of possible suspects to two separatist groups. When he’d first read Facinus was a prime suspect, he growled out loud, remembering their hijacking of another commercial cruiser that had crashed at suborbital speeds in an uninhabited area several months earlier. _They should have been dealt with then_ , he fumed.

All he could do for the time being was educate himself and form a plan. Commander Cassius had called to give him a full report of what was happening in and around Vallum and the older man had also implied that Tassius was about to receive another promotion. It made sense, seeing as so many had perished in the blast, but Tassius’s head still spun at the thought of advancing even more tiers.

At least he would finally be in Vallum in a matter of hours. The Space Port had been mercifully spared destruction, and Gwen and Livia were planning to meet him as soon as he landed. His mind wandered to Gwen’s cryptic message that “someone else very important would be there,” and Livia’s knowing look. Tassius clenched his hands in and out as he sat on the edge of his bed. He needed to see them in person.

 _Soon_ , he reminded himself as he rose to his feet to begin packing. _Soon_.  

**********

Her father had once described the busiest cities on Earth as hives, teeming with humans who each fancied themselves as important, when in reality, they were mere worker ants, all unconsciously doing the bidding of a queen. Who that queen was depended on the type of “ant,” but as Gwen and Livia shoved their way through the swarm of moving bodies at the Vallum Spaceport she was willing to bet the turian queen was whatever vender could provide fresh medical or food supplies.

She gave Brutus a reassuring pat on his tiny head from the makeshift sling she had wrapped around her chest, holding the chick securely to her front. Brutus looked up at her with his large, inquisitive eyes. “We’ll be there soon,” she told him. “You can meet daddy.”

Livia made an amused hum off to her right. “Can’t wait to see his face when he sees this little _parvus_ ,” she trilled affectionately at Brutus.

“Hopefully he’s not too taken aback,” Gwen said as she continued to push her way through the endless river of people. He’d be surprised, sure, but Gwen felt that Tassius would grow to love Brutus as much as she did. They’d talked about having Chiers, so the idea of a baby wasn’t a radical one.

Still though. She’d had time to bond with Brutus, and all their talk of children had been for several years down the line. Faced with instant fatherhood, she could only put her faith in Tassius as a loving, caring man, who wouldn’t turn away a helpless infant.

Upon reaching the docking bay, Gwen nervously fidgeted with Brutus’s sling. After waiting for days to reunite with her husband, Gwen’s emotions were an odd mix of excitement, sorrow, and relief.

“There he is!” Livia cried out, an excited chirp to her vocals.

Gwen snapped her head up in time to see the tall, armored figure of Tassius striding towards them. Her feet were moving before she realized it, one hand holding Brutus more firmly to her as she ran. She wanted to jump into his arms, but that would crush the chick. Charging up to him, she greedily grabbed him by the mandibles and hauled his face down for a deep, passionate kiss.

Despite being more reserved in public, Tassius’s subvocals squealed and sang out his relief at seeing her and having her in his arms once more. He pulled back to nuzzle his forehead against her brow with an intensity that took her breath away.

 _Here, you’re here, my love, my heart, you’re here_. He repeated in a subvocal chorus just for her.

“Tass,” Gwen gasped, fighting back tears as her hands roved over his face and any other unarmored part of him she could reach.

The chick, no doubt curious at all the excited subharmonics in the air, chose that moment to cheep from inside his sling. Tassius pulled back from Gwen sharply, as his eyes shot down to the moving bunch of fabric against her chest.

Smiling at him reassuringly, Gwen dipped the material down so Brutus could poke his head over the side. Tassius trilled in surprise before clamping down on his emotions and staring at her expectantly.

“Tass, this is Brutus. I found him during a search for survivors.” Gwen looked into her husband’s ruby eyes, pleading for him to understand. “His parents are gone,” she continued more softly. “According to the Taetrun records, he has no living family, and he’s been put up for adoption.”

“You… you want us to adopt him?” Tassius asked, looking back down to the fuzzy chick who had begun to hoot at him in a request for attention.  

“I know it’s sudden,” Gwen said gently petting Brutus’s small hand. “But, we’ve talked about having children. And he needs us. I…” Gwen trailed off, unsure how to word her thoughts.

 _He’s already your son_ , Tassius supplied for her subvocally.

 He sighed, looking down at Brutus before gently running a large talon against the small chick’s tiny mandibles. “The timing…” He hummed to himself. “I’m going to be extremely busy. I’m not sure I can be the father that this little one deserves.”

“You can give him whatever time you have.” Gwen assured him, smiling as happy tears fought to break free. “He’ll understand when he’s older. You have a lifetime of memories to make with him.”

Slowly, Tassius bent down to nuzzle the chick’s tiny forehead with his own, before purring affectionately to Gwen and scenting her own brow again.

“File the paperwork,” he told her. “He was yours the moment you found him. I’ll… _try_ to be a good father.”

Gwen peppered his face with kisses before nuzzling him again. “Thank you, Tass.”

“Alright, my turn,” Livia said, moving over to affectionately run her mandibles against her brother’s. “And I’m officially an aunt!” She giddily declared, turning to Gwen and holding her hands out for the chick. Gwen grinned, helping Livia secure Brutus in her cowl as the younger woman cooed and tweeted to the baby.

“Any other surprises you’d like to share?” Tassius asked as the trio began to snake their path back through the Port.

“We don’t have an apartment anymore.” Gwen sighed, remembering how much she’d loved their three-bedroom high-rise _. I just got the place all decorated too_ , she thought sadly.

“I assumed as much,” Tassius said, sounding forlorn. “But, I’ve already been assigned lodgings on the outskirts of Vallum. They should be big enough for both – ” he glanced over at Brutus who was happily swiping at Livia’s lower right mandible. “They should be large enough for all of us.” He amended.

Gwen grabbed his hand and gave it a firm squeeze. They’d get through this. Hell, they could design and build their next home, one that had extra space for a growing family. The Hierarchy just had to find and stamp out the monsters who’d destroyed the city first.

As the crowds of people begin to thin and the group approached one of the few functioning skycar terminals, Gwen glanced around at the tapestry of stoic, or else frightened faces. Everyone was just trying to get by, locate surviving family and attempt to rebuild their lives.

As she turned her empathetic eyes around the terminal, she landed on a figure which instantly garnered her full attention. _It can’t be_ , she thought, even as she started to walk closer. The older man was wearing a hood which concealed a good portion of his face, but Gwen would recognize him anywhere.

“You!” She yelled, pointing a finger in Susan’s direction.

Susan whipped around at the sound of her voice, yellow eyes going wide in shock.

“You did this!” Gwen screamed, not caring if other people were staring. “You and that fucking Facinus cult of yours!”

At the mention of Facinus, the ambient conversation around her buzzed to a stop. Susan looked furtively over his shoulder before daring to make eye contact. The usual venom was drained from his voice as he miserably said, “I didn’t know…”

“You didn’t know?” Gwen shrieked, pushing herself into his personal space as images of Brutus’s parents and Cornelia flooded her mind’s eye. “You didn’t know what? That you’re fucking friends would destroy Vallum? Murder babies and THOUSANDS of innocent people? Is that what you didn’t know?”

Susan bent his head in shame. “I didn’t know he’d go this far. I thought it was just a lot of talk, I didn’t – ”

Gwen’s fist connected with his mandible before Susan could finish his pathetic excuse. She felt the skin on her knuckles tear, but the satisfying crack of Susan breaking a tooth was worth the pain in her hand.

Susan fell back, clutching his mandible where she’d struck him. “I swear, I didn’t know!” He cried.

“Garon Sareris,” Tassius said, appearing next to her in all his military glory. “Officials have yet to identify which group, specifically, was responsible for this attack. If you are withholding information, I will personally have you thrown into prison until you see fit to share.”

Susan’s eyes nearly bugged out of his skull as his uninjured mandible started to quiver. “General Malolin!” He exclaimed. “I’ve been trying to contact officials, but no one believed me! I needed evidence.” Glancing around him he pulled a small data chip out from his pocket and handed it over to Tassius.

“What is this?” Tassius demanded. “Speak!” He ordered when Susan didn’t immediately answer.

“It’s evidence.” Susan said, head bent low in submission. “It’s the people responsible for the blast. And how they did it.” Daring to raise his eyes back up to her husband, Susan pleaded in both larynxes, “please General. You have to stop them.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens! Hopefully people are still enjoying this. Heads up, next chapter gets smutty.


	4. The Meaning of Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW
> 
> Oserun – A ceremony that recognizes the promotion of turians to a new citizenship tier. It is a very formal, public event.
> 
> Nothi – A colloquial Taetrun word, basically means “bastard”
> 
> Aeternum Song – Loosely translates to “heart song,” and is a type of vocalization turians make for their romantic partners. The song is specific to the mate, if a turian has more than one partner in a lifetime, the new song will vary drastically. 
> 
> Dilectæ – A Palaveni endearment, translates to “my beloved spouse.” 
> 
> Ad vitam est scriptor – An old Palaveni phrase, translates to “my reason for living.” An extremely intimate phrase, since turians are taught that sacrifice for the people and cause are their duty. Saying this to a mate essentially tells them they are worth more than anyone else; a radical notion for a turian.

The _oserun_ had always been a solemn occasion in turian society. Advancing the tiers was a show of trust on the part of the Hierarchy; that the recipient was worthy of more responsibility. Tassius took his duty seriously, and when he had been sworn into the rank of General, he vowed to protect and serve the turian people.

But as he stood on a hastily constructed podium, looking out over a sea of resolute, and nervous faces, he wondered how he could possibly protect his people from themselves. The video footage Garon had given him left no doubt that Facinus was responsible for the blast. His hands balled into fists at the memory of separatist leader, Kihilix Tanus, praising pilot, Vamire Squaron, for successfully murdering close to 140,000 people.

He would forever remember those names. And he would see them both dead.

His superiors had agreed with him that this time, the separatists would be given no mercy. The newly appointed Primarch would be officially declaring war on the Facinus _nothi_ and all their ilk later this evening. But for now, promotions were in order.

Tassius stood at attention as General Aurelos swore in the new minister of the Taetrun Laudatix who then formally – and publicly – advanced Tassius two citizenship tiers to the rank of Duo Legionnaire General. The promotion didn’t feel as exciting this time. Instead of anticipation for a new challenge, Tassius felt the cold dread of knowing _exactly_ what he would have to do.

Applause followed the minister’s speech, but Tassius didn’t listen to the words. Barely in Vallum for a full day and already he’d spent nearly the entire time in meetings discussing what course of action to take against Facinus, upcoming troop movements, and preparation.

His feet felt like lead as he exited the podium and marched back over to General Aurelos, Primarch Valen, and the newly appointed Captain Cato Cassius.

“General Malolin.” The Primarch bowed to him. “I have just received confirmation from Primarch Fedorian. The Hierarchy will be sending troops to Taetrus to help us lay siege to the Diluvian Wildlands and those Facinus anarchists.”

Tassius nodded. The information was not surprising. The Hierarchy loathed separatists above all else as they reminded the turian state of the Unification Wars. Facinus would be crushed. The real question was, how many people would need to die to ensure the anarchists never returned?

“Who will be leading the war effort?” Tassius inquired.

“The Hierarchy's General Partinax,” General Aurelos said. “He’s a highly decorated solider and devout supporter of colonial unity with Palaven. He’ll leave those murderers no quarter.”

 _Prenia’s father_ , Tassius mused. He wondered briefly what his old shipmate thought of the conflict, and whether she’d be involved in the military campaign.

“We will convene tomorrow morning at 0500 to discuss preparations for a full assault on Eluria.” General Aurelos continued. “General Partinax will be participating via holo. We’re expecting over 60,000 Hierarchy troops with full sea and air support.”

“We’ll see those cowards burn.” Primarch Valen spat.

Tassius could only rumble in agreement, though inwardly he marveled at the enthusiasm to kill ones’ own people. Was Eluria not part of Taetrus, too?

Captain Cassius clasped him on the shoulder, pulling him from his troubled thoughts. “Get some rest General.” He said. “You’ve a busy schedule to keep.”

“Thank you, Captain.” Tassius bowed to his old friend. “I think I shall take my leave.” Bowing to the Primarch and General Aurelos, Tassius headed for the skycar he’d been granted upon his return.

Settling into the driver’s seat, he input the destination and finally allowed his exhaustion to wash over him. Despite feeling like a walking apparition, he knew he wouldn’t sleep tonight. His mind churned with the chaos of war and battle preparation, and buried beneath all that, deep in a dark pit of himself, lay a bubbling, simmering grief for his parents. He dared not let it surface though. He had too much to do to waste time grieving; too many people were counting on him.

As the skycar parked in front of the modest single-story home he’d been assigned, his thoughts wandered to Gwen. He’d hardly been reunited with her before getting pulled away thanks to Garon’s vid footage. Thoughts of his mate reinvigorated his tired limbs, and pulling himself from the vehicle, he made his way to the front door and inside the dimly lit house.

It was eerily quiet inside. Gwen normally had music playing in the evenings before bed, and the absence of any noise put him on edge. It was too early for her to be asleep, wasn’t it? Was something wrong?

The sound of footsteps halted his search of the rooms, as Gwen appeared from the spare bedroom, a finger held in front of her mouth in the universal sign for silence. She melted into him with a sigh, and Tassius felt his entire body relax as he wrapped himself around her. “My love,” he whispered softly.

“Hey Tass,” Gwen said in a hushed voice. “I just got Brutus to fall asleep. That baby nest Kamala found for me is perfect.”

“Was he behaved for you?” Tassius asked, running a talon against the soft skin of Gwen’s cheek. The notion that he was a father had yet to truly sink in, and given his current position, Tassius doubted he’d really be allowed to bond with the chick until hostilities came to an end.

“Yea,” Gwen answered. “He’s so cute, it’s ridiculous. I took vids of him trying to pet Fizzgig. I’ll show you later.” She pulled back and raised up on her tip-toes. Tassius purred as he lowered his own head to nuzzle her brow and scent her as his mate.

Gwen rapped a finger against his armored chest. “How about we get you into something more comfortable?” She suggested. The unspoken question was also clear.

Bone tired as he was, his body hungered for her more than sleep. Purring out her _Aeternum Song,_ he gently cupped her face in his hands as he brought his own down to press his mouth plates to her supple lips. “I’ve missed you _dilectæ_ ,” he whispered.

“I missed you too Tass.” Gwen said, gently pulling back and kissing his palm.

Sliding out of his arms, Gwen took him by the hand and with a mischievous smile, led him to the master bedroom. Tassius eagerly began to pull off his armor, setting it neatly to the side as Gwen pulled her shirt over her head.

As soon as he was bare, he wrapped Gwen up in a possessive embrace, purring loudly as he inhaled the scent of her arousal. His cock twitched behind his plates, but he didn’t allow himself to unsheathe. He wanted to please to his mate. Show her just how much she meant to him.

Pulling away from her, he nodded toward the large bed. _Lie down for me,_ he instructed subvocally.

Fire danced behind Gwen’s golden eyes as she complied with his request. Her auditory implant, a wedding gift for him, allowed her to understand his subharmonics, and he adored the fact that he was able to communicate with her as he would another turian, even if she couldn’t reciprocate.

Lying flat on her back, Gwen lifted her head up to watch as he crawled over her, coming to rest on his forearms as he bent his head to nuzzle her once more. Gwen hummed as she rubbed her brow against his crest.

Tassius moved his head to her neck, inhaling into her loose, sun colored hair, before gently nipping her ear. Gwen giggled at the sensation, and Tassius moved to lave the column of her neck with his tongue, reveling in her airy gasp.

He paid special attention to her bondmark, reverently licking and nipping it before scenting it with his forehead. Gwen lifted a small hand to run it over his own bondmark; the impression from her teeth clearly visible on his tawny hide.

Tassius slowly licked and nipped his way down her body. He ran the rough palm of his left hand over a breast, causing the nipple to form a stiff peak. He repeated this action with her other breast, before lowering his head to gently take a nipple between his mouth plates and apply pressure, while his tongue flicked against it. Gwen moaned and arched into him as he pinched and pulled one nipple with the fingers of his hand, while using his mouth on the other.

“Fuck, Tass,” she panted out.

Chuckling darkly, Tassius nipped his way down Gwen’s taught stomach, caressing a mandible against her inner thigh when he reached the juncture between her legs. He glanced up at her from his position kneeling before her womanhood. She was trembling with want and her pleading eyes were all he needed as he pressed his face against her center, breathing in her heady scent.

Her arousal was enough to make his head spin, and cursing under his breath, he willed his cock to remain sheathed. He ran his tongue along the length of her slit, growling at how wet she already was, before plunging it inside her.

Gwen moaned and pressed herself against his face. Tassius gripped her thighs with both hands, keeping her spread while massaging gentle circles into her legs with his thumbs. He opened his mouth wide, to rub the smooth surface of his upper mouth plate against her clit while he continued to fuck her with his tongue, curling it against that rough patch inside her that had Gwen gripping the sheets and calling out his name.

“Tass,” she called out in a high whine. “I’m close, fuck, Tass, please!” Her hand shot down to grab his wrist and pull.

Knowing exactly what she wanted, Tassius pulled his head back and hurriedly moved to lie down facing her on the bed. They both reached for each other as Gwen threw a leg over his hip spur and he wrapped an arm around her lower back, aligning her sodden entrance with his pelvic plates. Relaxing his muscles, Tassius sobbed out in ecstasy as his cock slid from behind his plates directly into his mate’s wet, warm, tight channel. 

He clung to her, quivering from the rush of endorphins, as she dug her dull nails into the sensitive patch of hide behind his fringe. “Oh Gwen, _ad vitam est scriptor_!”

Gwen moaned against his plated chest and began to rock her hips, encouraging him to move. Gripping her hip tightly, Tassius pulled nearly all the way out of her body before pushing back in. Despite wanting to fuck her hard and fast, he forced himself to maintain a deep, languid pace.

“Oh Tassius!” Gwen cried as she ran her hands over his fringe, shoulders, neck and back.

“Yes,” he repeated as he continued to make love to her. Eyes closed, he lost himself in the feel of her around him; the silken, vise-like embrace of her walls as he slowly pushed inside, the sounds of her breathing when he pulled out, only to bring them both flush again. Gwen clenched down on him, her own completion close at hand.

Tassius sped up his movements, adding an extra roll to his hips to rub against her clit. Gwen’s entire body went ridged as she came with a silent scream, fingers pulling him impossibly closer. Tassius growled over his purring subvocals before thrusting into her several more times as his knot began to swell.

He felt his biotics pulse and surge as he emptied himself inside his much smaller mate with a rumbling groan. Gwen rocked against him as his overly sensitive cock throbbed, causing them both to gasp. Tassius slowly opened his sex drunk eyes and pulling back, bent his head to nuzzle Gwen’s brow.

“God, I missed you so much Thor,” Gwen laughed breathlessly.

Tassius flicked out a mandible in a grin. He didn’t mind being compared to a human deity when it came to his sexual prowess, though he preferred that the nickname stayed strictly between the two of them.

Tucking her under his chin once more, Tassius sighed in contentment as all the days’ stresses fell away. Only Gwen could bring him this sense of peace. This feeling of belonging and perfect. “I love you,” he whispered to her in his main voice as his subvocals purred out the sentiment in an endless song.

“I love you too, Tass,” she told him nuzzling further into his embrace. “With all my heart.”

And for the first time in over a week, everything in his world was perfect.

*********

“Because, mom!” Gwen said in a voice just below a shout. “I’m not going to abandon my husband just because things here are ugly!”

“Things aren’t just “ugly” Guinevere, they’re dangerous! Please, be reasonable! Come home!” Her mother’s eyes were wet and pleading, but Gwen held firm.

“I’m not leaving.” She said resolutely, just as her father’s face appeared next to her mother’s.

“Gwen, please.” He said. “Taetrus is about to erupt in an all-out war. You don’t want to be caught in that shit show! And with an infant no less?” He shook his head in scorn. "Don't be selfish!"

Gwen stared down her parents defiantly. “What would you have me do?” She asked. “Come back to Earth and do nothing? People are having their damn internal organs stolen from hospitals! I have – ”

“You don’t _have_ to do anything!” Her father snapped, startling her. “This isn’t your war! The turians can take care of their own without you sacrificing yourself!”

“So, they’re not human, so the Alliance doesn’t care. Is that it?” Gwen seethed, remembering the European Union's Prime Minister and his pretty, petty words about “the whole galaxy bleeding blue.” Words didn’t heal wounds or feed people. Real, tangible items did. The salarians and even the quarians had sent actual aide. The fact humanity and their asari cousins were content to sit back and do nothing infuriated her beyond reason.

“Of course the Alliance cares!” Her mother said. “We feel – ”

“Feelings do nothing!” Gwen unloaded. “You’re in the parliament, mom! Lobby for the Alliance to send actual damn aide! Medical supplies, food, tools! Anything helps!”

Her mother fell silent and Gwen almost felt guilty at the hurt look in her gentle eyes. Almost.

“And what, pray tell, are you going to do there?” Her father asked, anger and fear clear in his voice. “Give away our weapons inventory?”

“Actually, dad, I’m going to be working with Captain Cassius to open and operate a weapons destruction facility. To destroy firearms and munitions being used by the separatists.”

Her father closed his eyes, his face still looking pinched. “Gwen,” he began, but Gwen was tired of hearing it.

“No dad.” She said. “I’m staying with my family.”

Her parents both sagged under the weight of her words. A part of her knew how she was hurting them, and that Earth would be safe for herself and Brutus. But she wouldn’t leave Tassius alone. She wouldn’t abandon her home. No one else was going to help, and she felt a moral obligation to pick up her peoples’ slack.

“I’ll send you the equipment you’ll need for the destruction facility,” her father said softly, a cloud over his features.

“We love you, Gwen. Come back to us,” her mother said, voice wet as tears trailed down her lovely face. “Please…”

“I will, mom,” Gwen said softly, before straightening her posture. “I promise.”

She ended the vid call and sunk deeper into the couch. Brutus cooed at her from his sling, and smiling at him tiredly, Gwen lifted the chick to her face for a kiss. “You’re so cute,” she hummed to him. “When this is all over, we’ll go to Disneyland. You, me, and daddy.” She grinned, imagining Tassius’ horror at the costume characters. “Daddy’ll like it after a few days,” she told the chick. “It’s the happiest place on Earth.”

Brutus babbled at her in his sweet, tweeting little voice as she nuzzled his brow. Her omni-tool pinged, and she checked it, thinking it might be Tassius. She was surprised to see it was a call from Teddy.

“Hey,” she answered.

“Dude, you’re seriously staying on Taetrus?” Her older brother asked. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”

Gwen growled out in exasperation. “Did mom and dad tell you to call me?” She demanded.

“No.” He said. “They told me you refused to leave though, and I’m just trying to understand.”

“These people need help,” Gwen said irritably. “Help _you_ could give I might add. You’re a dentist. Do you know how many turians had their teeth blown out of their skulls from the blast?”

“You aren’t seriously suggesting I join you on that dust choked hellhole.” Teddy said incredulously.

“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting you pompous dick!” Gwen yelled. “You’re always talking about wanting to do humanitarian work. Well, you’ve got the knowledge and an anesthesiologist girlfriend who, oh yea, also happens to be a turian. Put your money where your mouth is and get over here and help!”

Teddy was quiet for a moment as her outburst sunk in. Much to her shock when he looked at her again, he said, “I’ll talk to Octa. Maybe Songo and Melissa can handle my office for a week, so I can do some volunteer work.”

“Teddy,” Gwen said, overwhelmed with gratitude. “Thank you.”

Her brother shrugged. “I’ll get Remy to come too. Probably lots of families with injured pets he can help.”

“That’d be amazing,” Gwen said.

“I’ll get back to you tomorrow,” Teddy replied. “I think Octa will want to come with me, but I just gotta make sure the office is staffed until we get back.”

Gwen chuckled. Teddy’s Citadel dental office was immensely busy. Giant clown that he was, he took his job seriously, and had become a very wealthy and successful man.

With promises to touch base soon, Gwen and her brother ended their conversation. Brutus looked to her expectantly. “Just one more call cutie,” she told him.

“Gwen! Holly shit are you okay over there?” Scarlet’s face was a perfect picture of concern, and Gwen gave her friend a reassuring smile.

“I’m fine Letty. Still in a bit of shock, but fine.”

Scarlet breathed out a long sigh. “Don’t scare me like that!” She said. “Aurie told me the entire planet has gone crazy, every time you call I think something’s happened to you or Tass.”

“Sorry?” Gwen said. “Did Aurelius’ family get off Eluria?”

“Yea,” her friend replied looking relieved. “Right before the Hierarchy stopped space travel. His mom and brother are staying on Palaven with family, but he’s afraid his childhood home is going to be blown to shit.”

 _He’s right, it is_ , Gwen thought glumly, remembering the Primarch’s war declaration that morning. “Maybe it’ll be okay,” she said unconvincingly.

Scarlet didn’t respond, looking down to the ground instead. Gwen decided to change the subject. “So, fashion week is coming up,” she said. “Are you all ready to take Illium by storm?”

Scarlet’s eyes sparkled with excitement when she looked back to Gwen. “Damn right I am! Prazza is practically beside herself. I took inspiration from the quarians in this line.” Scarlet winked. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a quarian vibrate with joy before.”

Gwen chuckled, remembering the quarian girl from her wedding. Prazza essentially worshiped Scarlet, and to have her idol take her ideas and not only run with them, but also credit her, was a dream come true.

“And where’s this baby I’ve been hearing about?” Scarlet asked. “If I’m an auntie I demand to see him!”

Gwen’s face split into a smile as she lifted Brutus into the frame. Scarlet squealed, bringing her hands up to her mouth.

“Oh my god! Gwen! He’s so small and fluffy!” Her friend’s entire face glowed. “I’m SO sending you a care package with baby clothes. What size do you think he is?”

Brutus chirped at Scarlet’s image on the vidcall, tilting his head in curiosity.

“Kamala said he’s a CC, whatever that means.” Gwen answered. “Apparently they used to work at a daycare on Thessia a couple centuries ago.”

“So, Kamala and Fulvia both made it out okay?” Scarlet asked.

“Fulvia broke her right arm and leg pretty bad, but otherwise they’re both fine.” Gwen confirmed. She’d been beyond relieved to learn her friends were alive, after assuming they were both lost given how close their bakery was to the blast. The pair had become her go-to advisors on all things baby turian and Gwen was forever grateful for their honest, patient advice.

“Well that’s good,” Scarlet said. “And, I know I’ve already said it, but, I’m so sorry about your in-laws. They were good people.”

Gwen sighed, looking down at Brutus. “They were the best,” she said quietly, grieving that Brutus would never meet them.

“They’d be proud of you,” Scarlet said. “For staying to help and adopting a baby in need.”

Gwen smiled. “I think they’d be pleased,” she agreed.

The two talked a while longer until Brutus became fussy and began cheeping for food. Saying goodbye to Scarlet, Gwen tucked the squirmy chick against her side and headed for the kitchen. She needed to confirm that Fulvia could watch Brutus during the day while she went to work at the weapons destruction facility.

“I’ll help give you back your home,” Gwen told the twittering child. “One way or another.”


	5. New Assignments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vastum – Slang word for coward, literally translates to garbage or waste. 
> 
> Xemna – A large type of herd animal used for food. The turian equivalent of a cow or beef.
> 
> Parvus – Palaveni word for “tiny one” or “lovely small thing,” used often for babies.

Nearly two weeks after the blast and the sun was finally setting in the hills beyond the spectral wasteland of Vallum. The lingering “doomsday glow” as Gwen called it, was the result of suspended dust in the atmosphere. The skyward blown particulate had promoted the formation of high-altitude ice particles that reflected the sunlight at all hours of the day and night, forcing Tassius and Gwen to drape blankets over the already closed windows in order to have any semblance of twilight in the neon drenched city.

Tassius sighed as he exited his skycar and walked up the steps of the Sanhei Memorial Building. The structure had become the official headquarters for those tasked with eliminating the Facinus organization. Local high-ranking military personnel had met here yesterday –  Tassius included –  and by now everyone knew the score; the Diluvian Wildlands would burn, and any citizens sympathetic to the anarchists would burn with them.

Nodding to the four guards at the doorway, Tassius strode into the circular meeting room where the other Captains, Generals and authorities were gathering. Tensions were high and the buzz of subvocals filled the air as they awaited the Primarch and General Partinax’s arrival.

Hierarchy troops had arrived in orbit the day before and the famed General was about to assign tasks and go over his plan to wipe out the separatists. Not that his plan was much of a secret.  Primarch Valen wanted blood, and from their meeting the previous day, General Partinax seemed more than willing to spill it.

Tassius walked over toward Captain Cassius. The Captain was leaning against the far wall, subtly watching the other people who had been summoned to this evenings meeting.

 _Do you think he’ll completely destroy Eluria?_ His old friend asked in tense subvocals.

“Not sure,” Tassius answered. “But the Diluvians refused to spit up those Facinus _vastum_ when ordered. Now, they’re going to pay the price.”

The Captain hummed just as the large wooden doors at the room’s entrance opened, and the Primarch, flanked by General Aurelos and General Partinax on either side swept into the middle of the floor. “Generals, Captains,” the Primarch began, raising his hands skyward so that the sleeves of his golden robe spilled down his arms. “Over one week ago, I gave clear and specific demands to the Diluvians to produce the leaders of Facinus and renounce separatism. They have failed to do so.” The Primarch turned toward General Partinax. The General for his part was dressed in heavy armor that looked fresh off the assembly line. The only cracks or imperfections were those that cut into his copper colored face plates and fringe. His silver eyes glinted under the artificial lights and Tassius was reminded that humanity’s’ first impression of his race was that they looked as if forged from steel.

“Soldiers,” Partinax said stepping forward. “We are at war. Our enemy wears a familiar face, but do not be fooled; these are not your brothers and sisters. These are separatists, anarchists and barefaced murderers.” His flint eyes roamed over the collected military body in front of him. “We are going to treat this threat as we would treat any other threat to the Hierarchy,” he continued. “We will pulverize it and leave the separatists no place to regroup. To that end, starting at first light, we will be commencing an intensive air campaign against the Diluvian government and Facinus cowards.”

General Partinax pulled up a holo map from the center dais in the room, projecting the Wildlands in vivid lines of pink and blue. “We’ll be following standard procedure,” he went on. “Targeting and eliminating early warning radars and other scanners, followed by power stations, naval yards, telecommunications nodes, and airfields.” The General glanced up from where he was marking neon crosses onto the map to indicate the selected structures. “General Aurelos will be spearheading the constant lightning offensive from orbit.” He said. “We aren’t going to give the Diluvians a chance to establish any air presence.” His gaze slid away from General Aurelos and landed on Tassius. “General Malolin, once air supremacy is established, you will be tasked with leading the ground campaign.”

Tassius nodded his head stoically, carefully controlling his subvocals and posture. Internally, his blood drained from his body and he was left a hollow husk of white, gripping doubt. This was his moment. The instance that would seal his reputation as a General and leader in the Hierarchy.

By the time the Primarch mercifully called a break in their meetings, night had fully established itself. Tassius stepped outside for some fresh air as his mind twisted and contorted around his next actions. This was the opportunity of a lifetime, to show what he was made of and what he could do. _And it will be against my own people_ , he thought with a twinge of guilt.

“General Malolin.” Tassius turned to regard General Partinax in the dim light. “I realize I did not confer with you before assigning you this mission.” Partinax clasped his hands behind his back, assuming a posture of parade rest which Tassius copied. “You are young, General.” Partinax stated bluntly, eyes scanning Tassius’ lithe frame. “And a former Kabalim. But your record is impressive and rank well deserved. I need a man who knows warfare and has experience with both Cabals and common soldiers. Eradicating Facinus and their ilk is going to require both brute strength and mental fortitude.”

The unasked question, _can you do this?_ hung heavy in the arid night winds.

Tassius bowed low. “I will not disappoint you,” he said in an even voice. “I will do what has to be done to ensure Facinus never surfaces on Taetrus again.”

Partinax clasped Tassius on the shoulder. “This will be bloody,” he affirmed. “But it is for the greater good. No one else will be forced to sit grieving a child murdered by terrorists or wonder when the next attack will come.”

Tassius’ mind flashed unbidden to images of his parents, smashed and broken among the ruin of his childhood home. And with a sickening clarity to an image of Gwen, wailing and shaking with sobs, tears streaking down her lovely face. In her arms was Brutus’s small, limp body. _Never_ , he thought, hands curling into fists.

“I’ll crush them,” he surprised himself in saying. The older General’s confident smile was the only answer he received as he was ushered back inside to continue debriefing.

**********

If Gwen had thought the Vallum Spaceport was crowded before the Hierarchy troops arrived, the place was practically choked with people now. She cursed under her breath as she was jostled about by much taller turians. Aurelius could only do so much to clear a path, and Gwen was downright pissed by the time they reached the _SSV Atlanta_.

“Spirits this place is crowded,” Aurelius said as they moved out of the ocean of people.

“Just wait till we have to wade back through it with a truckload of supplies.” Gwen grumbled.

True to his word, her father had sent the necessary equipment to supplement the Hierarchy’s own weapons destruction efforts. The local military body had been all too pleased to place Gwen in charge of the Vallum Facility, and the genuine gratitude she had received for lending her expertise, time and resources was more than payment. Getting Aurelius as a personal bodyguard had been a nice bonus.

Gwen pulled up her omni tool to contact the ships XO while Aurelius kept watch on the passersby. Instead of the XO, however, the face of Captain Marie Khoo filled the vidscreen.

“Yes?” The Captain asked in a terse voice.

 _Someone’s already had a bad day_ , Gwen thought before answering, “this is Gwen Malolin. I’m here to collect the Hahe-Kedar shipment onboard.”

“That massive pile of machines in the cargo bay? It’s about time. I’ll open the airlock.”

“What a basic bitch,” Aurelius said once the vidcall ended.

Gwen chuckled despite her irritable mood. “Been talking to Scarlet recently?”

Aurelius flicked his mandibles out in a grin. “As often as I can,” he replied. “She didn’t want me to come to Taetrus,” he said more quietly. “She’s worried that…” He trailed off, but Gwen understood. His family might have fled, but he still had other relatives and friends on Eluria. She couldn’t even fathom being asked to kill people she’d grown up with, been friends with.

Gwen patted Aurelius’ arm as the ship’s airlock opened. “I told her you’re with me,” she said. “And I promised I’d take care of you.”

Aurelius rumbled a laugh, his good humor quickly returning. As they waited for the decontamination cycle to complete, Gwen mentally went over her “To-Do” list. Once she and Aurelius got the supplies out of the port, they’d head for the Vallum Facility currently being used to dismantle and destroy weapons. After they got the equipment set up, Gwen had to go pick up Brutus and Fizzgig from Fulvia and Kamala. Then, she’d have to somehow manage to get home, change, shower, and feed the dog and chick. If she was really aiming high, she’d try to have some supper prepped for Tassius before he left for the battlefront later that night.

Her involuntary sigh drew Aurelius’ attention, but before he could ask, the doors opened onto the deck of the _Atlanta_ , and the stern face of Captain Khoo. Hands akimbo on her hips, the Captain was short – barely over five feet – and looked like a competitive body builder with lean, strong muscles straining against the starched fabric of her uniform.

She spared Aurelius a glance before focusing on Gwen. “That’s it? He’s all the help you brought?”

Refusing to allow herself to be unprofessional in front of an Alliance Captain – as cranky as the woman plainly was – Gwen forced a thin smile. “This is my body guard, Aurelius Naxxus.” Gwen gestured to Aurelius who gave a polite bow. “The docking crew has been alerted and will be here with the necessary manpower and transport.”

 _Which you damn well know_ , Gwen thought.

The Captain sniffed before relaxing her stance. “The sooner I can get out of this powder keg the better,” she said to no one in particular, tucking a strand of black and red hair behind her ear. Then, with a wave of several fingers, Gwen and Aurelius were ushered to the ship elevator and sent down to the cargo hold without more ceremony.

As Gwen checked to ensure all the equipment was in perfect condition, Aurelius started to watch a vid on his omni-tool. “You’re on the clock doll, put that away,” Gwen said without turning around. She heard the large turian make a _humph_ sound before the muffled noises stopped.

Gwen smirked at Aurelius as the cargo bay doors started to open. The turian crew moved swift and efficiently loading up the equipment onto large hover trucks and tying it down while Gwen supervised. By the time all her gear was loaded, and they had left the _Atlanta_ Gwen was famished.

“I’m gonna grab a levo shake before we hit the road,” she said gesturing to the asari run kiosk.

“In that case, I’m grabbing some _xemna_ skewers from over there,” Aurelius responded, pointing to a stall nearby.

The two separated and Gwen went to stand in line with several other humans – crew from the _Atlanta_ , likely –  and two salarians. As she waited, she couldn’t help but stare at the older woman in front of her. She was dressed unassuming enough but was wearing an eye-patch over her left eye and seemed distracted. She clearly wasn’t a crew member of the _Atlanta_ , and Gwen was left to speculate on whether she too, lived in Vallum or was just passing through.

Shrugging it off, Gwen ordered her shake and went to wait for Aurelius near a trashcan. As she sucked on her straw, she noticed the older woman out of the corner of her eye. The white-haired lady was definitely staring at her with one intense blue eye as she ate a sandwich. Refusing to be intimidated by some creep, Gwen turned to face her stalker and stare her down in kind. When the older woman easily pushed off the wall she was leaning against and walked toward her, Gwen stiffened.

 _What does she want?_ Gwen wondered, not sure if she needed to summon Aurelius or not.

“I couldn’t help but notice,” the older woman said in a soft voice still clinging to the remnants of a British accent, “that you aren’t a member of the _Atlanta’s_ crew.”

Gwen narrowed her eyes. “Neither are you.” She pointed out.

The older woman hummed, gazing out over the undulating mass of people as they moved through the port. “I’m just a tourist, passing through.” She said.

“A tourist during wartime? Sure.” Gwen replied, sounding more disdainful than she intended.

“I find the wars of other species fascinating.” The older woman shrugged. “Makes for an interesting hobby, at least. Some pictures to show off at parties.”

Gwen lowered her drink as the pieces began to come together like a not-so intricate jigsaw puzzle. “As I’m sure you’re aware,” she said in a level voice. “It is against Hierarchy law to take photographs of the dead. And it’s a felony to do so during wartime.”

The older woman’s mouth curved upward in a thin smile. “All good travelers know the laws of the lands they visit. Whether those laws are actually reasonable or not… well that’s another question.” She said.

“What are you – ”

“I’ll be blunt with you, Ms. Kedar – or should I say Ms. Malolin. I work for someone. Someone who wants to know what’s really happening in the Dilluvian Wildlands.” She pulled up her omni-tool and Gwen heard her own ping with an incoming message. “Among all the other races, only turians are so cloistered with their wartime dead. More than a few governments suspect that they’re using prohibited chemical warfare in this particular… insurgence. Proof either way would benefit everyone.”

The older woman glanced over Gwen’s shoulder before turning to leave. “Should you come into possession of anything that might give answers during this trying time, please, don’t hesitate to contact me.”

Gwen stared with a set jaw as the white-haired woman disappeared into the milieu of passengers and ships. 

“Who was that?” Aurelius asked as he came up behind her.

Gwen glanced at her omni-tool and the contact information for someone named Genevieve Mueller. “Since I doubt this is her real name,” Gwen said. “I have no idea.”

Her companion let out a soft growl. “Want me to have a few words with her?” He asked, mandibles pressed against his face.

“No, I think she’s harmless.” Gwen answered, though internally she cringed at just how disgusting the whole affair was. _One species civil war and suffering is another’s opportunity for exploitation and cultural disregard._ She thought bitterly.

“If you say so,” Aurelius said, relaxing his posture.

“Come on, let’s get out of here.” Gwen said as she headed for the skycar terminal. “I’ve had enough of this place for one day.”

The two drove in companionable silence for most of the ride. The Vallum Facility was closer to the neighboring town of Dilix than the rubble that had once been the Capitol. Though Gwen had taken some pleasure – and even pride – in how quickly people were rebuilding. Aurelius had almost seemed pained at the progress though. The influx of Hierarchy troops helping rebuild was likely a reminder that his own home would soon be reduced to smoldering embers.

“So,” she said glancing at Aurelius who was fiddling with his empty food wrapper. “Is Tiberius still with _The Steadfast_ too?”

Aurelius snorted, before a wry grin split his face. “Tiberius is on Palaven,” he said, humor washing over his features as he turned to Gwen. “And he’s fringe over talons in love with a female human N7.”

“What?” Gwen asked. “Seriously? Tibs? The guy who got so flustered when Rachael told him she liked his jacket that he walked face first into a wall? That Tibs has a girlfriend?”

Aurelius burst out laughing, his melancholy all but forgotten. “Lily,” he said. “And she must have made the first move, because Tiberus is a clumsy idiot when he has a crush.” He flicked his mandibles up and out in the turian equivalent of an eye roll. “And wouldn’t you know, she plays _Galaxy of Fantasy_ too.”

Gwen grinned. Tiberius and his gaming obsession had been well known when she’d been aboard _The Steadfast_. Quiet and awkward as he could be when he liked someone, Gwen was pleased to know that he’d found a person who loved him back.  

“She’s all he talks about,” Aurelius went on. “But, I’ve never seen him happier.”

Gwen parked the skycar toward the back of the facility. Though, as she took the place in, “castle” seemed like a better description of the building; ramparts built into the walls and four turrets on each of the higher towers. _What was this place before?_ Gwen wondered as she and Aurelius headed to the arched entryway.

Captain Cassius greeted them at the door. The skin around his eyes was dark, while his armor hung heavily on his body. Gwen wondered if he was also shipping out to Eluria with Tassius onboard _The Steadfast_ that night. _He’d probably get along with Captain Vallokius_ , she mused. Though at the moment, the good Captain looked ready to collapse from exhaustion.

He bowed to Gwen and Aurelius as politely as ever before waving at the crates being unloaded from the hover trucks. “It would seem as though we’re missing a box.” He informed them. “You’ll have to go back to the _Atlanta_.”

 _The hell I will_ , Gwen fumed, prior aggravation immediately returning. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” She demanded in a tone not fitting for a professional.

“We only just now noticed,” the Captain said straightening. “It’s a relatively small box of gears. It’s necessary though if we want this equipment to be operational.”

“Well, I know I saw it and marked it as delivered.” Gwen said through clenched teeth. “So, someone else probably forgot to toss it in the truck.” Suddenly, a plan to get out of returning to the dreaded spaceport struck her.

“It’s probably a much better idea if you go, Captain.” She said, relaxing her features.

“Me? Don’t be absurd! I’ve been tasked – ”

“I only mention it since I was approached by a human at the port trying to get photographs of turian wartime dead.” She said turning back toward the entrance. “I thought, as a Captain, maybe you could tell Captain Khoo of the _Atlanta_ about the laws while you were there. She’s an incredibly welcoming woman.” Gwen added.

The Captain hesitated. Gwen could practically see his thought process; he didn’t want to leave and cede her entire control of setup, yet, his duty and culture compelled him to speak with Captain Khoo about the stigma and penalties for photographing the dead. _Maybe he can go home afterwards and catch some sleep._ Gwen thought.

“Cato,” she said, feeling slightly bad. “I can handle the setup here. The parts can wait a few hours, if you can send them over via a runner.”

The Captain sighed. “Fine.” He conceded, and with a tired bow, he headed for the exit.

“That was just mean,” Aurelius rumbled behind her.

Gwen scoffed at him. “Did you want to go back to the _Atlanta_? For all we know, Captain Khoo and Cato might hit it off.”

Aurelius chuckled. “Better him than me.”

The next several hours were spent assembling equipment and teaching people how to operate it. A runner came with the errant box of gears – and a slightly pissy note from Captain Cassius about Captain Khoo whom he described as “explosive, yet somehow lovely” – and by the time dark had fully established itself, Gwen was dead on her feet.

Leaving Aurelius with the other soldiers at the facility – which she’d been informed used to be a prison – she headed for the outskirts of Vallum to where Kamala and Fulvia were staying with Fulvia’s niece. Brutus would already be asleep, and Gwen could only hope she didn’t wake him up when she put him in the car.

As she trudged up the ramp to the door, she tried to list out all her other responsibilities for tomorrow. Namely, preparing for Teddy, Octa and Remy to stay with her for a week. She sighed as she knocked on the door. Tassius would be an entire continent away. It would be nice to have family around, even if the twins could be obnoxious at times.

Kamala opened the door dressed in a snug looking blue and pink striped robe. “Gwen,” they said affectionately, giving Gwen a hug. Gwen sighed at the contact, melting into Kamala for a few moments before pulling back and walking inside.

She heard Brutus tweeting and babbling as she rounded the entryway of the house to the living room area. She found Fulvia seated on the couch, affectionately rubbing a mandible against Brutus’s small head as he sat nestled inside her cowl.

“He’s still awake?” Gwen asked.

Fulvia turned to look at her, the older turians’ onyx colored facial plates looking even more cracked than Gwen last remembered. “Nightmares, I’m afraid,” she said in her rich duel toned voice.

“But he’s so young,” Gwen said sitting beside her friend. “I didn’t even think he could have nightmares yet.”

“Oh, chicks can and do,” Fulvia assured her. “And this little _parvus_ has already experienced so much terror.” Fulvia trilled softly to Brutus.

 _I’m so sorry little one_ , she vocalized to him.

Brutus tilted his head before turning to Gwen and cheeping loudly, tiny hands reaching out to her. Gwen gave her son a tired smile as she gently picked him out of Fulvia’s cowl to snuggle up under her own chin. “I hope you’ll be able to sleep soundly tonight,” she told him. “Daddy is leaving in a few hours, and I’m sure he’ll want to say goodbye to you without waking you up.”

“Do you know where in Eluria he’ll be?” Kamala asked from their place in a turian style easy chair.

“Probably the Wildlands,” Gwen shrugged. “I don’t think he really knows yet either.” She felt a shadow cross her face as she imagined the horrors that awaited her husband in that godforsaken marsh. 

“He’ll be alright,” Fulvia assured her. “He’s young but has the skill and talent of someone twice his age.”

Gwen gave a weak smile. “Yea, I’m sure he’ll be okay.” _At least on the outside_ , her mind chimed in. Tassius had refused to talk in any detail about his parents or friends that had perished in the blast. Gwen understood needing to be a General and not getting sucked into a pit of despair, but even with her he’d had very few words about the tragedy, and simply told her whenever she tried to get him to discuss his feelings on the matter that “he didn’t have the luxury of grief.”

Tassius was one of the strongest people she knew, but he had a huge heart and had been close to his family. She couldn’t imagine what he was feeling and worried that the longer he ignored his pain, the more consuming it would actually become.

Fulvia rumbled to Gwen in concern, and she realized she’d been staring a hole into the wall. “I’m okay,” she told her friend weakly, patting Brutus on the back as the chick purred happily against her neck.

“There’s nothing wrong with being ‘not okay’ given the circumstances.” Kamala said. “Have you thought about speaking with someone? A therapist or counselor, maybe?”

Gwen opened her mouth to say she didn’t have the time but stopped herself. Tassius wasn’t making the time to deal with his emotions. She had a child to consider now. Shouldn’t she make the effort to ensure she was emotionally sound?

“I should talk to someone,” Gwen said softly. “It might help.”

“I know a wonderful therapist,” Kamala said, just as softly. “I’ve been seeing her myself. She’s an asari doctor with over 500 years’ experience with PTSD and shock from catastrophic events. I can send you her contact information, I meet with her via holo.”

“I’d appreciate that,” Gwen said. _Can’t hurt to try_ , she thought. Livia was at least seeing a trauma specialist stationed with her unit. If the rest of his family was seeking help, maybe Tassius would be inspired to seek counseling too. 

After drinking a cup of herbal tea, Gwen took Brutus and strapped him into the infant seat of her skycar. The chick immediately began screeching, as he had begun doing whenever Gwen was out of sight, and Gwen sighed in defeat. Ignoring his screams as best she could, she moved to the driver’s seat as Fizzgig took up a place in the seat next to her _. Focus on the here and now_ , she reminded herself. Put the chick down to bed and spend some time with her husband. 

She’d get through this. And she’d help everyone else she could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple cameos here. Tiberius's girlfriend, Lily Evans, belongs to cousinslavellan. If you'd like to read about what Tibs and his lady love have been up to, I highly suggest reading the fic "Broken Souls."
> 
> And the mysterious shadow broker agent who approached Gwen is none other than Ellie, from Squigly_Squid's "Parable" series which I absolutely love.


	6. That Heavy Weight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Parvus – Palaveni word for “tiny one” or “lovely small thing,” used often for babies.
> 
> Pallii – The turian equivalent of a kilt, worn by males around the house. Basically turian sweatpants.

The shrill cries from the next room had erupted nearly as soon as Gwen had gone to lay down. Tassius watched as his bedraggled mate tipped her head back before taking a deep sigh and making for the chick’s makeshift nursery. Rumbling to her, Tassius gently took her by the elbow.

“I’ve got it,” he told her.

“Are you sure Tass?” Gwen asked, eyes looking dark and exhausted. “He’s been super clingy lately and I know you have to leave soon.”

“I’ve got two hours before I have to go,” Tassius told her with a purr. “And, I’d like to spend some time with him.”

Gwen’s smile was tired, but genuine. “Okay,” she said. “I’m going to lie down then, if you’ve got him.”

 _It’ll be fine, love_ , he vocalized to her.

Gwen gave his chin a soft kiss before retreating with Fizzgig to the master bedroom. Turning toward the wailing chick in the adjoining room, Tassius rumbled comfortingly to the flailing infant whose eyes were still shut tight, small body and vocals convulsing in terror. He began to sing softly with his subvocals, like he used to do for Livia when she was still in the cowl.

Lifting Brutus up, Tassius checked his diaper. It was fairly wet, and so, continuing to sing to the chick, Tassius gingerly laid him on the cushioned dresser-top and removed his soiled diaper, replacing it with a dry one. Brutus opened his eyes but continued to cry and kick his tiny legs, still scared from whatever he’d seen in his nightmare.

 _It’s alright parvus_ , Tassius hummed. _Daddy’s here._

Carefully placing the frightened chick into his cowl, Tassius walked out to the living area to take a seat on the couch. Brutus continued to thrash against Tassius’s neck, though not as violently as before.

“Hush _parvus_ , I’m here,” Tassius whispered in his main voice, continuing to sing in his subvocals. Gently, Tassius used his mouth plates to lightly grip the chick’s feathery down, preening and humming as he did so.

Brutus gradually quieted, looking to Tassius with large, blue eyes, still holding a few traces of fear. Humming low in his subvoclas, Tassius began to sing the lullaby his own mother had once sung for him: “My _parvus_ , my baby, my sweet little love. Nest in my cowl, I’ll keep safe from below and above. My perfect, my _parvus_ , I love you so much. Rest now my baby, at my tender touch.”

Brutus made a soft hooting sound as his eyelids began to grow heavy. Tassius continued to sing, switching to his subharmonics as he went back to lovingly preening his son. After nearly twenty minutes, with a stuttering sigh, the chick dropped off into a deep and peaceful sleep.

Tassius purred, rubbing a mandible against the top of Brutus’s tiny head. He needed to get dressed in his armor. Finish packing his personal affects. But the thought of moving and disturbing the sleeping infant in his cowl seemed too cruel. And so, he sat with his son, singing all the nest songs he knew, softly brushing his brow against the chick’s impossibly small one. 

Tassius sat with the gently snoring child until he absolutely had to get up. Carefully tucking Brutus back into his tiny infant nest, Tassius spared his son a final purr as he headed back to the master bedroom. Perhaps when the separatists were dealt with he could focus more of his energy on being a father. But for now, duty called.

**********

The marshes and wetlands of Eluria had always seemed primordial to Tassius, even when he was a child. The tall, saw leafed vegetation and deep, black water could conceal any kind of ancient or mythical monster. Though now, as the marsh surrounding the power station outside Madra burned a vivid phosphorus blue-green and the skies became heavy with smoke, Tassius mused that the monsters currently hiding here wouldn’t be able to hide forever.

It was eerie in a way. _The Steadfast_ had been firing on the power station and the separatist forces scrambling to protect it relentlessly, and while Tassius could both feel the thunder of the cannons and see the arcing lances of death raining downward, he couldn’t smell the scent of burnt vegetation and flesh. He couldn’t taste the ash in the air or hear the screams of those the ships’ cannons shredded so easily.

 _The ground campaign will be different_ , he thought grimly. _You’ll be down there. You’ll feel their fear and smell their misery._

“The station is gone, General,” Captain Vallokius informed Tassius, breaking him from his thoughts. Tassius rumbled in acknowledgment before turning to the holo screen with General Aurelos’ image.

“This entire swamp will be nothing but ash by tomorrow morning.” The older General declared. “The Mass Cannons have been pounding the Wildlands for nearly thirty-two hours. Their airfields are non-operational, but the Diluvian government is still deluding itself into believing they can achieve some sort of victory through martyrdom.”

Tassius nodded before turning to Captain Vallokius who was watching him with more than a little interest. “Captain concentrate firepower on the bridges leading from the urban centers and over the larger channels. I refuse to deal with armored utility units when we can cut off their supply now.”

“Yes General,” the Captain bowed before comming the soldiers manning the cannons and relaying Tassius’ orders.

 _Wise decision,_ General Aurelos vocalized.

"Diluvian air command has been turned into a crater. Any enemy fighters presently in the air were there when the air campaign started and will not find fuel or rest for their pilots anywhere." General Aurelos said in his main voice so Captain Vallokius could hear. “Another night of constant lighting and then the ground forces can move in.”

“Even so,” Tassius said, carefully controlling his subvocals. “The separatists aren’t going to admit defeat just yet. Cutting off all their supply lines and starving them out is the best tactic to end this quickly.”

“I agree,” the older General responded with a solemn bow. “And now General, I must take my leave. We’ll give you as charred a canvas to work with as possible.”

Tassius bowed as the image of General Aurelos vanished. “Captain,” he said glancing to Captain Vallokius. “How many Jiris hovercrafts are presently in the cargo hold?”

“About a dozen.” The Captain responded.

“Good.” Tassius said, eyes returning to glare out the main viewing window. “The separatists have entrenched themselves on the shores of the Talae River. They’re using the thick undergrowth for cover and firing armor piercing missiles at colonial air support. It’ll be up to the ground campaign to drive them out, and the Jiris are the best vehicles for the job.”

The Captain rumbled in acknowledgment. “With all due respect General,” the Captain said hesitantly. “We’re under orders to continue the lighting offensive for another six hours. We will focus on the bridges and refueling stations as per your orders, but, perhaps you should utilize this opportunity to get some rest?”

Tassius turned toward his former mentor, mandibles held tightly to his face. “I am fine, Captain.” He said, slightly irritated with himself that he appeared so beleaguered others were noticing.

The Captain bowed to him respectfully before moving off to contact the _Stalwart_ and inform the other ship of their new targets. Tassius sighed, trying to calm his racing thoughts. They needed to take Madra. The city was teeming with _Facinus_ members and sympathizers and losing it would be a heavy blow for the separatists.

Once the Talae River was cleared, the trick was going to be flanking the hardened pill-box structures the Diluvians were using for defensive firing stations. If he and his men could avoid these locations by sweeping through the marshlands on Jiris rigs, then they could hit Madra at practically full strength. The city would not go quietly, however, even if their supply lines were cut.

Tassius stifled a yawn, hoping Captain Vallokius hadn’t noticed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept a full four hours. Normally, even if his insomnia and racing thoughts were keeping him awake he could snuggle up to Gwen and the sound of her steady breathing and heartbeat were enough to relax him so he could at least get some rest. But here, surrounded by death, he found the constant pulsing of the cannons a poor lullaby. 

Too many lives were depending on him. In six hours he was about to order and lead a massive ground assault on the Diluvians, and he had to be prepared. One misstep could result in the death of his troops and loss of valuable machinery and time.

Turning, Tassius strode off the main deck and headed for his private quarters. He needed to review the area maps some more and then maybe – if he was lucky – catch an hour or two of rest before storming Eluria.

**********

“Hey Gwen! Prepare to laugh!” Remy said strolling out into the living area in Tassius’s _pallii_ , a massive grin on his face. “Tassius only looks okay in this skirt, but we all know that _I_ make it look hot!” Remy bent his fingers into claws as he made a growling sound at Teddy.

“Remy, stop playing with Tassius’ clothes,” Gwen said shaking her head.

Remy rolled his eyes. “Your husband parades around in a yellow skirt and we’re just going to ignore it, huh?” He said flopping down next to Gwen on the couch.

“It’s not a skirt, it’s a _pallii_ , and it’s not yellow, it’s burnt Dijon.” Gwen informed him as she offered Brutus more pureed meat from a feeding spoon.

“That stuff literally smells like feces,” Teddy said wrinkling up his nose. 

Brutus turned toward Teddy and hooted softly before letting out a loud squawk and reaching for him. “Get over it because he wants to sit with you, so you’re about to feed him.” Gwen said walking over to Teddy and handing him the eager chick.

She didn’t know what it was about Teddy, but Brutus had loved him from the first time they’d met. Remy and Octa were alright, but the chick would always begin to chirp and squeal as soon as he heard Teddy.

Teddy took Brutus in the crook of his arm. “Hey Lamb Chop, want some poop food?” He asked, offering the infant some of the foul-smelling paste. The greedy chick guzzled it down so quickly that it seeped out of his excitedly flapping mandibles and all over Teddy’s arm.

“Aww, sick!” Teddy said, grimacing at the purple goo covering his bicep.

“I’ll get it,” Octa said walking over with a towel. As she wiped up the mess Gwen didn’t miss her twittering subharmonics of _he’s so cute, he loves you._

“I dunno Teddy,” Gwen said moving into the kitchen. “I kinda like you covered in baby turian food.”

Octa chuckled as Teddy shook his head. “You do have a way with him,” Octa told her brother with a soft purr.

“Guess this means I’m sleeping on the couch tonight while you two make a turian chick,” Remy sighed.

“You’re just jealous our nephew likes me better than you,” Teddy replied.

“Have you heard from Tassius at all?” Octa asked Gwen, changing the subject.

“He can’t vidcall very reliably wherever he is,” Gwen answered. “But we’ve been messaging each other.”

She stared blankly at the countertop where she’d been cleaning up from Brutus’s dinner. Even without seeing or hearing him, Gwen knew Tassius wasn’t sleeping. He’d been cagey when she asked about it and finally admitted to maybe getting two hours of sleep a day.

“Did he say anything about General Partinax dueling Kihilix Tanus?” Octa asked.

Gwen held back a snort. The separatist leader had publicly challenged the famed General to a duel, calling him a coward should he refuse. The idea was laughable to human sensibilities, but apparently dueling was common within the turian military and seen as a way to settle issues with minimal bloodshed.

“He didn’t, but I didn’t ask to be fair.” Gwen replied. “Though based on the General’s comments to the media about the challenge, I’m pretty sure Partinax is going to accept.”

“It’s crap that they won’t let reporters record it or even be present,” Remy said. “If they do fight it out, how will we know if anyone actually died? The separatists aren’t going to quit without proof.”

For once, Gwen agreed with her older brother. Turian taboo about filming the dead – even when it might persuade others to cease fighting and evacuate to safe camps – seemed a cultural misstep. Especially to a race as militaristic as the turians. Gwen frown to herself. There was no way reporters would be allowed to attend if the duel took place. What was the point then? Her omnitool suddenly felt heavy on her wrist.

“In other news, I literally pulled all the teeth out of some old man’s jaw today.” Teddy stated proudly. “And not because they were damaged in the blast, but because they were rotten due to zero dental hygiene.”

“It was disgusting,” Octa agreed. “We gave him implants and a toothbrush along with detailed brushing instructions.”

“Does Tassius brush his teeth at least once a day?” Teddy asked. “Or do I need to have a conversation with him again?”

“Your last conversation about his teeth where you “jokingly” told him you used his toothbrush gave him a complex.” Gwen glared at Teddy. “He militantly buys a new toothbrush every two weeks now and inspects it before each use. Even if we haven’t had company over in days.”

Both twins cackled at this information while Octa flicked out her mandibles in the turian version of an eye roll.

“It’s not funny!” Gwen attempted to hiss, the sound cutting off into a chuckle.

“Lemme see Lamb Chop,” Remy said making a grabbing motion for Brutus.

Gwen shook her head at the nickname her fluffy son had earned. _He’s going to hate that one day,_ she mused.

“You want to hear an interesting piece of trivia?” Remy said cuddling Brutus under his chin. Without waiting for an answer, he continued, “Taetrus used to be a prison colony. Kinda like space Australia. The geometric bars in most of the colony markings here are representative of jail cells.”

“Pretty sure I knew that,” Gwen replied. “But did _you_ know that Tassius is – or I guess was – related to a super famous Council Spectre?”

“Tassius is related to Commander Shepard?” Teddy said with a peevish smirk. “I guess they are both gingers.”

“Still creeps me out how Shepard is like, back from the dead.” Remy said, gently patting Brutus on the back. “Is she like a zombie or a ghost now?”

“She can’t be a ghost because she has a physical form,” Teddy answered with an air of authority. “She’s definitely a zombie.”

“And you’re definitely an idiot.” Gwen said walking over to retrieve Brutus from Remy. “And it’s Spectre Nihlus Kryik, by the way. They were second cousins.”

Brutus purred happily as Gwen rubbed soothing circles along his back. The tiny nightclothes Scarlet had made for him were the most adorable outfits Gwen had ever seen, with yellow stars and cows jumping over smiling crescent moons. No doubt Tassius would ask her about the “mythology” behind that when he came home.

 _If he comes home_ , a horrible voice whispered in the back of her mind. She mentally slapped herself. Doctor P’Sila had counseled her about focusing on the here and now and not jumping to morbid conclusions. She’d message Tassius before bed, let him know she loved him and had hidden his toothbrush from Teddy.

But, as Octa sat down on the couch next to her brother, Gwen couldn’t help the twinge of jealously that rose in her chest as Teddy cuddled up into his girlfriends’ side, a dopey grin on his face when he looked up into her violet eyes.

As she turned toward the master bedroom to lay the now yawning, softly tweeting chick down in his infant nest she forced herself to see the bright side of things. She was content and surrounded by loving – if not irritating – family. Tassius would come home. They’d be together again soon.


	7. Game Changer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothi – A colloquial Taetrun word, basically means “bastard”
> 
> Proditor – A derogatory term for biotics. Means traitor or freak but with implications that their biotics are what makes them unclean and “other.”
> 
> Crassusa – A type of tree native to Taetrus with large, round trunks and an umbrella of mauve colored leaves at the tops. Very drought resistant.

The Diluvian swamps smelled just as wretched as Tassius had expected. After days of intense fighting the acrid scent of decay and burnt vegetation still stung his nose while the ever-pervasive smoke from the scorched earth burnt his eyes. His helmet was of no use; the soot and ash obscuring the visor after hours of fighting. And so, filthy and fatigued, he squinted his eyes against the haze while the sounds of gun fire echoed all around him in the unnatural smog.

He along with half his troops were working to clear out the Talae River basin where the separatists were continuing to shoot anti-aircraft missiles and stall his advancement. The other half of his forces were moving with brutal speed through the marshlands, cutting off the Diluvian supply lines in a bid to starve the _nothi_ out.

As he had surmised, the Jiris fighting vehicles gave his forces a decisive range advantage in open terrain; their missiles were able to hit targets twenty kilometers away before enemy forces even saw them coming. Knowing this, the separatists were using the remaining jungle and undergrowth as cover to draw colonist forces in close enough to attack. It was a desperate tactic and overall futile. When he hit Madra, he was going to strike hard.

“General!” A corporal from one of his advance battalions came roaring up beside Tassius’s vehicle. “There’s a Cabal, General! They’re destroying us!”

Tassius bit back a furious growl. “Where?” He demanded in a hot voice.

“About 800 yards due South,” the other man reported.

Turning to his own Jiris pilot, Tassius ordered, “I want over there now! And I want twelve other Jiris armed to the brim with antipersonnel frags!”

“Yes Sir!” His pilot responded, turning their vehicle around. Tassius commed his orders to the other Jiris in the near vicinity. The Cabal were not so much soldiers as a force of nature. Non-biotics feared their power – _and his own,_ he thought bitterly – for good reason. A well-trained Cabal unit could decimate standard forces, and Tassius would be damned if he sat back and watched the very people he once might have led slaughter his troops.

As the smell of ozone overpowered the stench of burnt grass and metal, Tassius straightened in his chair, calculating his next move. Should he order them to stand down? They wouldn’t listen, but should he at least try before opening fire?

The screams of a solider caught in a lift as he was mercilessly held immobile and shot in the head before being flung into the deep waters of the Talae River made up his mind for him.

“All Jiris units!” He barked into his comm. “I want this entire area saturated with antipersonnel frags! Divide into three squads of four vehicles; flank the Cabal and take them out!” His last order was all but growled.

The blood was pounding in his ears, his own biotics surging with all the energy in the air. His pilot gave him a concerned glance, but the man knew better than to say anything.

“Fire!” Tassius ordered.

Around him thunder erupted in green and orange and red. Dirt and water sprung skyward in corrupted geysers as his Jiris laid down heavy frags. The incessant beating of the vehicle’s cannons matched the frantic pace of his own heart as he watched a female biotic’s barrier explode under the onslaught before she herself was blown away by energy beams crashing through her body.

 _Separatists. Anarchists. Other._ He repeated mentally as another biotic crumpled to the ground before being eviscerated by gun and cannon fire. _They’re not my people,_ his mind whispered as the large barrier being held by four Cabals cracked and shattered in an electric blue explosion. His men cheered as a Jiris powered through the beaten Cabal, the soldiers falling to the ground as the boom of the cannons sent their bones and organs scattering to the pestilent winds.

“The Cabal is down!” He heard someone declare into his comm, the glee in their voice making him feel sick to his stomach.

“Good,” he said, numbing his voice and vocals. Turning to his pilot he nodded back toward the direction they’d come from. “Drive the rest of the separatists from the undergrowth. Once the river is clear, we make for Madra.” He said.

The pilot nodded before turning their craft back around. As his own vehicle rejoined the firefight on the banks of the river, Tassius mentally crushed the scream trying to claw its way out of his throat. He was a General. He didn’t have the luxury of grief.

********** 

“Are you fucking _insane_?” Gwen shrieked at Lieutenant Scartos, voice hysterical in her own ears.

“I have my orders Ms. Malolin and Captain Cassius placed _me_ in charge here.” The unearned arrogance in the Lieutenant’s voice only infuriated Gwen further.

“There’s no way in hell I’m letting that baby killing monster near any firearm – dismantled or not!” Gwen yelled, stepping into the Lieutenant’s personal space while casting a disgusted look in the direction of the man in question.

To his credit, Susan had enough shame left to bow his head at the moniker. Though not enough to keep him from opening his mouth. “I turned over evidence to bring down Facinus. I want to redeem my honor.” Daring to make eye contact Susan straightened his posture as he added, “my working here was already approved by General Partinax himself.”

Gwen seethed, teeth bared in unprecedented rage, but before she could say anything, the noise of the machines and chatter of the officers working them was drowned out by a deafening roar. Gwen turned her head to see Aurelius charging towards them; mandibles flared, teeth exposed and pulsing a dangerous biotic blue.

Lieutenant Scartos dove out of the way just as Aurelius rushed forward and seized Susan by the throat. In a fluid motion Aurelius lifted the comparably smaller man into the air, biotics surging through his hand and making Susan spasm uncontrollably and he struggled to breathe.

“Put him down solider!” Lieutenant Scartos ordered, anger as well as fear trembling in his subvocals.

Aurelius ignored his superior and instead flared his mandibles to expose his teeth as he snarled, “you’re the reason my cousins are fried bones in the swamp! You’re the reason Eluria has been razed to the earth!”

When Susan choked out a breathless “wasn’t my fault,” Aurelius roared again in unbridled fury, slamming his captive into the reinforced wall of the facility.

“Damn it you _proditor_ do as I command!” Lieutenant Scartos bellowed.

Aurelius flicked out a mandible in response to the insult but continued to simultaneously throttle and electrocute Susan.

“Aurie, let him go! He’s not worth it!” Gwen yelled, stepping forward. She knew better than to reach out and touch him as blue flames rippled over his armor, making the fine hairs on her arms stand on end. But she stood as close to him as possible, willing him to look her in the face.

Aurelius’ citron eyes darted down to meet her own and his mandibles twitched once before he opened his hand and let Susan drop to the ground in a crumpled, gasping heap. He let out a vicious growl before turning on his heel and storming out the front door.

The sounds of the machines humming, and grinding was the only noise as everyone stared in the direction Aurelius had left.

“Show’s over get back to work!” Gwen ordered.

Slowly, her team turned back to their stations or whatever else they had been doing. Gwen walked up to Susan, glaring down at him as he rose to his knees, rubbing his neck which was already blossoming a deep purple. “You’re lucky I value his career more than your death.” She said icily before turning to a fuming Lieutenant Scartos.

“You might have been assigned this position by Captain Cassius, but you’re **no** Cato!” She said jabbing a finger up towards the Lieutenant’s face. “ _I’m_ running the show around here, so stop acting like an over-entitled child!” Gwen exhaled through her nose, closing her eyes briefly before opening them again. “General Partinax thinks that waste of space deserves a second chance?” She gestured toward Susan who had managed to rise to his feet. “ **Fine**. But he’s going to be supervised at all times and assigned to permanent sanitation and bathroom duty.”

Head held high, Gwen walked out the door and after Aurelius. She didn’t have to look far for him; he was pacing out behind the lot were the skycars were parked, jabbing electric fists into the air and making sparks fly and dance off the chrome of the vehicles.

He moved off to lean heavily against the trunk of a large _crassusa_ tree as Gwen approached.

“Hey,” Gwen said moving to stand next to him.

“It’s fucking shit,” her friend whispered, grief resonating in his subharmonics. “It’s total fucking shit. He should be in prison. _How_? How can they just let him go?” He turned to look at her, mandibles clamped tightly to his face, anger still burning behind his yellow eyes as a low keen whined in his chest.

Gwen leaned against the tree truck next to him, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “He should be tried as a traitor.” She agreed, staring at the small pebbles littering the ground. Looking back up to Aurelius she sighed. “I think he’s worthless, but I’m not a tactician. Maybe there’s a point to assigning him here. Whatever it is, it doesn’t mean I have to be nice to him.”

“It’s not fair.” Aurelius said squeezing his eyes shut as he finally allowed the keens to spill from his throat. “It’s not fair. My childhood… the whole neighborhood is gone. Tass – General Malolin had to destroy it.” He broke off into an angry cry underlain with more emotions than Gwen could ever hope to understand. “All because _nothi_ like Susan spread lies and hate until others believed and got frightened and mad! The Diluvians aren’t evil,” he said eyes pleading for Gwen to understand. “They’ve been misled. And it’s not fair that those who led them to destruction get to walk free!”

Gwen looked back down to the ground again. There was no simple solution, no platitude she could offer to make it right.

“Life’s a bitch and then you die.” She said dryly, remembering how pessimistic her uncle Simon could get whenever he mixed alcohol and politics.

Aurelius rumbled to her in question. Glancing at him, she gave a small smile. “Something my uncle used to say when he was depressed.” She explained. “But maybe he had a point. Susan wants to work here? We’ll make his life a living hell. Trash, toilets and whatever gross thing needs moping. He’ll be life’s bitch and then he can die. If he wants to pretend he atoned for his bullshit, then that’s his deal.”

Gwen pushed off the tree to stand straight. “Come on, let’s go take a lunch break. You can get those weird wraps that give you diarrhea and we can have Susan clean the bathrooms afterwards.”

Aurelius flicked a mandible out in a light chuckle. “Petty revenge does sound kinda nice.” He agreed. “It’s still not fair, but I’ll do what I can to make sure Susan knows he isn’t forgiven.”

“I’ve been talking to a psychiatrist,” Gwen said as she and Aurelius walked over to her parked skycar. “So has Livia. Maybe you can talk to the guy Liv is seeing? He’s really helped her find ways to deal with her anger and frustration.”

Aurelius was quiet as Gwen maneuvered the skycar out of the facility parking lot. “I’ll think about it.” He finally said before turning to give Gwen a genuine, if not still sad smile. “Thanks Gwen.”

“Anything for my friend,” Gwen said. This time, her smile reached her eyes.

**********

It was becoming harder to remember that the people he was fighting were still his own. Each enemy tank he ordered pulverized, every sniper he had shot down, every storehouse and bridge he blew up or burned – they were all his people whom he was killing or starving out. Yet, the charred and bloated bodies that littered the streets of Madra where something so different and alien that the very sight of them repulsed him.

It had taken nearly a month to clean out all the separatists from the swamps and outer city limits. The city of Spadar had been decimated by the lightning defensive and the space port destroyed by necessity. Madra, however, was more spread out and harder to grasp tactically. Despite the large numbers of citizens fleeing to the safe camps, there were still those that insanely clung to visions of independence and glory.

Tassius spared a glance at the remains of one of these would-be “liberators.” His nose plates reflexively twitched up in disgust at the thought of how many collateral deaths this one corpse had created on his fool’s errand. Without doubt, he and his propaganda drunk cohorts had led directly to the deaths of their own friends and neighbors. And that thought was what gnawed at Tassius when he tried to sleep; the innocents he’d personally killed to reach the guilty.

He had no time to wander down that mournful path, though. He had received a solid lead this morning from one of his men that the Vallum blast pilot, Vamire Squaron, was hiding in this part of Madra. Tassius’ talons twitched at the thought of killing the man who’d murdered his parents and countless others. If he could kill Squaron then maybe he could finally have some peace.

Stepping over the threshold of what had once undoubtedly been a lavish home, Tassius nodded to his men as he walked by.

“Report!” He said briskly as he entered the large common room where his unit commander, several field officers and a scout stood at attention. The scout immediately gave him the claw salute before a nervous trill entered her subvocals. 

“He’s gone, General.” The scout said.

“What do you mean he’s gone?” Tassius all but snarled. “I was given word this morning he was in the Fangor neighborhood and barely four hours later you’ve managed to lose him?”

“I… I’m sorry General. We… there was heavy separatist resistance in the warehouse district, it took longer than anticipated to clear them out… there’s something wrong with them, General Malolin… They’re not turian, it’s like – ”

“I’m not interested in excuses!” Tassius bellowed, static fogging his eyes as his biotics surged with his temper. “Of course they’re not turian, turians wouldn’t bring this – ” he gestured to the blown out wall of the house and his armed guards beyond it “ – down upon innocent children and the mentally impaired! Turians are soldiers, not murderers!” He blew a deep breath out through his nose, trying to center his focus like he might if he were meditating.

“The separatists have been purchasing weapons and munitions smuggled in by the Blue Suns to use against us.” He stated matter-of-factually. “Red Sand and the like is probably among that contraband, so it isn’t surprising in the least that desperation has led to heavy narcotic use and deranged firefights.” Tassius clasped his hands behind his back, shoving his rage down into the ever-deepening pit inside himself. Anger would get him nothing. A good General was calm, collected, and above all, pragmatic.

Turning to his operations commander, a woman twice his age with ivory white plates he motioned for her to walk with him. “There’s still pockets of resistance in the city center and massing around Kasatum Fortress.” He told her in a level tone. “We’ve captured or killed 20 of the 24 top Facinus leaders, but this war won’t end until they’re all accounted for.” The pair stopped at the end of the cobblestone pathway that led from the street to the front door. Turning to Commander Hafesta, Tassius fixed her with a serious look. “Find Squaron and the last of the separatist leadership. It’s your top priority.”

“Understood, General.” His Commander responded. “We’ll sweep through the city center and focus on Kasatum Fortress.”

“Good. Dismissed, Commander.”

Commander Hafesta saluted him before returning to the house to relay his orders and gather her troops. Tassius stared up at the perpetually grey sky; _the smoke never settles over Eluria_ , he thought bitterly before turning to make for colonial headquarters.

As he moved to walk away, the scout from earlier rushed out the front door. “General!” The woman called. “General, we’ve found something you’ll want to see.”

Tassius followed her out behind the stately home to a small work shed. There were three other soldiers in the confined space and they moved aside as best they could to accommodate him as he strode over to the work bench where everyone was staring and whispering in tense voices. On the bench sat two improvised FTL plotters. It didn’t require an engineer to realize that these plotters were in the late stages of weaponization. Tassius suppressed a horrified gasp.

“Who owned this house?” He demanded from the man standing directly to his right.

“Sir, this house belonged to a Ulrixen Ravidus. We’re running a full background check on him now, but he appears to have had few skills in the astrophysics department.” The soldier glanced at the plotters and Tassius could see the restrained horror in his face.

“I want this entire property searched to the beams, and any more plotters or plans or evidence brought to me immediately.” Tassius said, blood pounding in his ears.

It had to be Squaron. He was one of the few separatists capable of manufacturing weaponized plotters. Tassius seethed, wondering how recently the murderous pilot had fled. Returning his gaze back to the workbench, his eyes alighted on an object unrelated to the plotters. It was cylindrical in shape with queer writing on it. Picking it up, Tassius stared at the impossibly familiar object.

 _It can’t be_ , he thought. “Private,” he said turning toward the scout. “The separatists you fought earlier today. You said they were behaving abnormally?”

“Yes, General,” the scout replied. “There was something horribly wrong with them. Most of them had metal and wires jammed into their bodies, like they’d been experimenting on themselves.” The woman cringed. “Nearly all of them had plate rot and were malnourished to the point of starvation. And the one we found still alive after the firefight kept repeating something about becoming one with the machines…”

Tassius felt the fire in his veins turn to ice. Years ago, he’d fought Blue Suns mercs who had behaved as though they were being controlled by some unknown force. He’d turned over their stolen Prothean artifacts to Citadel authorities, but what if they’d been made it back into criminal channels?

“Nobody touch that!” Tassius ordered tossing the strange object back on the bench as though it had stung him. “I want a decontamination unit here immediately! Anything that looks Prothean is to be treated as though it were hazardous waste!”

Backing out of the shed as the others followed with a mix of frightened and confused subvocals, Tassius pulled up his omni-tool to contact General Partinax.

Whatever had found its way here with the Blue Suns shipments was far deadlier than any anarchist solider or gun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I don't like being mean to my characters, but war is shit. I promise some emotional healing is on the way.


	8. The Duel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Culus – Colloquial Taetrun word for “asshole” 
> 
> Nothi – A colloquial Taetrun word, basically means “bastard”

The morning had been filled with a mix of emotions that Gwen was still trying to parse out. On the one hand, she had been elated to learn that Tassius would be returning to Vallum for an in-person debrief with the Primarch and General Partinax. On the other, news that Partinax had agreed to a duel with Facinus leader Kihilix Tanus and decreed that no media were to be allowed whatsoever had left her feeling troubled in a way she hadn’t experienced before.

Her brothers had been quick to point out that a death with no confirmation meant little in terms of ebbing future bloodshed. Octa had explained that turian society saw displaying wartime dead as disgracing the victim and making them appear cowardly when they had no ability to defend themselves from ridicule. This had sparked a heated debate with Teddy, who simply could not comprehend how the perceived “shaming” of the dead could outweigh the benefit of dissuading more people from taking up arms. Though, judging from the noises she’d heard filtering through their bedroom door later that night it sounded like they’d enthusiastically come to an understanding.

Gwen sighed. She’d tried to stay out of the argument, but reports of separatists digging in and fighting until their cities were reduced to rubble and children, the sick, and elderly were killed as collateral damage was hard to ignore when televising the cost of resistance seemed like it could prevent more casualties.

Adding to her troubled mood was the fact that Brutus had screeched and kept her up half the night with nightmares – and once apparently just because he wanted attention – and by that morning, she was feeling like a walking corpse. Kamala had given her the asari version of espresso when she’d dropped the chick and Fizzgig off with them and Fulvia earlier that day, but even so Gwen was tired down to her bones.

Forcing herself to focus, she strode inside the weapons destruction facility and came face to face with an exceptionally ornery looking Susan. He was dressed in a khaki tunic and pants and was aggressively moping up what looked like spilled kava as Aurelius stood innocently nearby. Gwen snorted. _Serves him right_ , she thought, ignoring Susan’s furious subharmonics.

Noticing that Captain Cassius was at the facility this morning and speaking with Lieutenant Scartos, Gwen sucked in an aggravated sigh and went to see what the two men were discussing. She had thought that the Captain would be sent to Eluria along with Tassius and had been surprised to learn that he was instead stationed at the Vallum Spaceport. Though as she approached the older man she immediately noticed his happy subvocals.

“Guinevere, I must commend you on the fine work being done here,” the Captain said by way of a greeting. “Lieutenant Scartos has informed me that you’ve destroyed over a ton of firearms and other personal weapons. Most impressive.”

Gwen felt a smile break through her weary features. Captain Cassius was as by-the-book as it came with turians, and his compliments were never given without merit. Glancing at the Lieutenant who was still standing at attention, Gwen considered taking all the praise for herself before discarding the notion. The younger Lieutenant could get a bit drunk on power at times, but ever since her blow out with Susan he’d relaxed his micromanaging and been a real asset to her.

“Thank you, Captain,” Gwen said with a polite bow to her husband’s former mentor. “I couldn’t have accomplished it without the Lieutenant’s help.” She gave Lieutenant Scartos an appreciative smile, noticing how he puffed up at her words. “He’s volunteered to stay late and shut off the machinery in the evenings, so I can be with my son.”

 _Very gracious of you_ , the Captain commended the Lieutenant subvocally.

“Guinevere, might I have a moment of your time?” The Captain asked with a slight inclination of his head.

Gwen furrowed her brow but nodded and after a few parting words to the Lieutenant, followed the Captain up the broad staircase to the observation deck overlooking the machinery.

Captain Cassius leaned heavily against the railing as he stared at the workman. “I suppose you’ve heard about the duel?” He asked her.

“Kinda hard not to, it’s being broadcast on every news outlet,” Gwen answered mimicking his posture.

This close she noticed for the first time that the Captain smelled… well she wasn’t sure how he normally smelled, but it certainly wasn’t like a human woman’s perfume. Gwen bit back a smirk. _No wonder he’s in such a fantastic mood_ , she thought bemusedly.

“It’s taking place tonight,” Captain Cassius said unaware of her inner musings on his personal life. “It’ll be a barrier room fight to the death.”

Gwen’s breath caught as she stared up at the Captain, previous thoughts evaporating. “To the death?” She asked, eyes wide and mouth remaining open.

Captain Cassius nodded. “General Partinax has survived seven duels, five to first blood and two lethal.” He said before glancing to her. “You’ve been invited by General Partinax to attend.”

“What?” Gwen squeaked out. “Why?”

“The Alliance has been monitoring the situation on Taetrus since the blast. Humanity has the second largest navel force after the Hierarchy and I presume that the General wants you there as some type of emissary.” The Captain turned to fully face Gwen. “You can tell the Alliance media what you witnessed and legitimize and bolster the reputation of both the Hierarchy and the General for handling the situation with discipline and honor.”

“But, why me?” Gwen repeated trying to put her racing thoughts in order. “I’m technically a civilian. And why is General Partinax so concerned with impressing the Alliance?”

The Captain raised his brow plates. “I just told you. The Hierarchy is the strongest military power in the Milky Way. The General wants humanity to remember that.”

Gwen snorted. “Humans aren’t likely to forget that,” she pointed out. “Even if the Alliance is commissioning more fleets, it’ll be decades before humanity has a naval force rivaling that of the Hierarchy.”

“Maybe so,” the Captain conceded. “But General Partinax is a showman. Our social taboo about broadcasting images of wartime dead means the media won’t see how Partinax won – and I assure you he will win – but having a human witness from a politically connected family will bolster both his reputation and that of the Hierarchy.”

She was going to go of course. Her own curiosity demanded it, but she resented being used by the already famed General to make himself look even more like a wartime deity. _Which is bullshit since MY husband is the one actually winning the battles,_ she thought bitterly.

“You’ll attend?” The Captain said in a tone which conveyed that he already knew the answer.

“Just tell me where to be,” Gwen confirmed, setting her jaw. “I’ll be there.”

**********

Aurelius had tensed when he’d learned he wasn’t permitted to attend the duel. “I dunno Gwen,” he said around his lunch as they sat under the shade of a large tree. “Seems weird they want you there alone.”

“Captain Cassius will be there,” Gwen offered as she took a sip of tea. “Even if we do irritate each other he’d never let anything happen to me.”

“That’s not what I’m concerned about,” Aurelius said. “It just seems… I dunno… out of the ordinary to have an outsider – and a human at that – attend. No offense.” He quickly added.

Gwen shook her head. “Is it weird that I want to watch?” She asked. “I know most humans would find the prospect of a public duel… distasteful.”

Aurelius hummed around his mouthful of food. “With everything happening around here, wanting to see what’s going on with your own eyes is pretty understandable.” He said. “Still though, just seems weird.”

Gwen nodded more to herself than Aurelius. After sitting in silence for a moment she decided to change the subject.

“Did you know Captain Cassius has a human lover?” She asked him.

“I’ve known that for days,” Aurelius said with a dramatic flip of his mandibles. “Captain Khoo from the _SSV Atlanta_. Pretty sure she spends most nights at his apartment since the _Atlanta_ was grounded.”

“What? No… Captain Khoo? Seriously?” Gwen gave Aurelius an incredulous stare. “I thought she hated Vallum and was livid her crew were spying and got the ship put under lock-down?”

Aurelius snorted. “Well, she likes Cato even if she hates Vallum,” he said. “The Captain isn’t trying to hide the fact either. He smells like sex with a human woman so strongly even Scartos noticed and he’s practically odor blind.”

“How do you hear all this stuff?” Gwen demanded. “It’s like you spend half your day eavesdropping on people. You’re worse than Scarlet.”

“I don’t eavesdrop I just stay in the know,” Aurelius informed her. “And nobody is a bigger gossip than my Letty.” He flared his mandibles out in a fond grin. “I could talk to her for hours.”

“Yeah, about other people.” Gwen rolled her eyes. “Speaking of, what’s Tiberius up to? Since you’re ‘in the know’ and all.”

Aurelius huffed. “Tiberius continues to be a love blind idiot. He sent me no less than 39 messages yesterday about what type of fucking flower arrangement to get Lily. The answer is obviously orchids, they’re totally in right now. Ask Scarlet.”

“Wow,” Gwen said shaking her head. “And Tiberius is the love blind idiot?”

“Scarlet is a fashion designer, Gwen, she knows what’s hot and what’s not.” The pure confidence in Scarlet’s abilities and the underlying, loving vocals Aurelius put into his words had Gwen cooing in response.

“Awww,” she told him. “Once this war has ended and Tassius can take a break we’re so going on a triple date. I wanna meet Tiberius’s girlfriend and you and Scarlet can tell us all about the newest trends in flower arraignments while Tassius pretends to be interested.”

Aurelius opened his mouth to speak but was cut off as Lieutenant Scartos approached them at a brisk walk.

“Ms. Malolin, you need to meet the Captain now.” He informed them.

“What? Why? I thought I wasn’t supposed to meet with him until tonight?”

The Lieutenant hummed out his own confusion. “He told me you both need to leave now,” he replied.

Frowning, Gwen glanced to Aurelius who tried and failed to tamp down on his buzzing vocals.

“It’ll be okay,” she assured him, rising to her feet.

As she followed the Lieutenant back to the facility, Captain Cassius exited and beckoned to her with his hand in a very human gesture Gwen now assumed he’d picked up from Captain Khoo.

“What’s happening?” Gwen asked him as she fell in alongside him.

“Change of plans,” he told her as he unlocked a sleek black skycar. “The duel is happening now.”

“Right now?” Gwen asked in a high voice as she slid into the passenger seat of the vehicle.

The Captain nodded as he maneuvered the car out of the facility. “Lieutenant Scartos can manage things until tomorrow,” he told her. “We can’t be late.”

Gwen stared out the windshield as her mind floundered to figure out why the time of the duel had changed.

“Facinus feared treachery,” the Captain said, sensing her confusion. “This was the only time they’d agree to.”

“Okay…” Gwen said as she attempted to mentally prepare herself for what she was going to see. None of the landmarks they were passing looked familiar – not that any really did after the blast – and she wondered where this barrier room for the duel was located.

The answer, it turned out, was in a warehouse district in Dilix, which looked remarkably untouched by the devastation still clinging to every surface of Vallum. The largest of the permasteel buildings had three sets of guards at the entrance, all clad in heavy armor carrying assault rifles.

The air was heavy with unspoken subvocals and Gwen could feel the hair on the back of her neck rise in response to the anxiety rolling off the turians here, even if they were maintaining that rigid, professional posture so often associated with their race.

She and the Captain quickly stepped inside and were directed to a large window looking inside a barrier room.

“Has it begun?” The Captain asked an even older man with weathered plates and a permanent scowl.

“They’re checking their weapons,” the other turian – a General judging by the insignias on his armor – responded.

Gwen walked up closer to the window. Inside, General Partinax was tediously inspecting a standard issue Hierarchy pistol. Opposite him stood the man whose very visage had Gwen baring her teeth in poorly concealed rage.

Kihilix Tanus was the face of hatred. Whenever his vile, venomous voice came over the news calling on “proud Taetruns” to resist the colonists and renounce Palaven, Gwen could feel her nostrils flare as her mind instantly returned her to the eviscerated ruin of Tassius’s childhood home and the cold, limp body of her mother-in-law.

Kihilix turned his beige plated head toward the window and paused. Gwen snarled at him, unable to contain her fury and disgust. _Murder!_ Her mind screamed _. Baby killer!  
_

A heavy, gauntleted hand fell on her shoulder and Gwen reared back ready to punch someone, only to lock eyes with the calm, blue gaze of Captain Cassius.

 _It’ll be done soon_ , he told her in his subharmonics.

Gwen relaxed a fraction but turned her head to glare at the Facinus leader once more before moving back several paces to stand next to the Captain with crossed arms and narrowed eyes. She might have been the only non-turian at this duel, but the sense of camaraderie she felt in the shared outrage of the other soldiers was unifying.

There were a group of three males and one female in mismatched armor who clearly weren’t a part of the Hierarchy forces. They were standing in a small huddle looking incredibly nervous and Gwen assumed these must be Kihilix’s body guards. She shot them a sneer, not they noticed.

Suddenly the air around her changed.

_It’s time._

_It’s starting._

_Look._

Gwen immediately turned back to the window, noticing the hover cameras inside the room for the first time. _Probably to ensure no one cheats_ , she thought. _Pity no one else will get to see the footage_.

She focused on General Partinax and Kihilix. Both men – if that’s what you wanted to call Kihilix – turned to face the blank wall on opposite sides of the room. They waited, bodies tense, until a loud crack like gunfire sounded out from somewhere and they whirled around. Kihilix fired first and for an instant, Gwen thought Partinax had been hit. However, the resounding shot from the General’s own pistol dispelled that notion.

Kihilix fell backward from the impact, arching slightly off the ground as Partinax bore down on him continuing to fire. The General’s face was an expressionless mask as he advanced on the lifeless figure sprawled out before him. The shots from the General’s pistol sounded in a monotonous clap until the weapon finally overheated and Partinax lowered his arm, staring down at the smoking corpse and expanding cobalt puddle at his feet.

Gwen thought she’d feel elated at Kihilix’s demise. Instead, she just felt hollow. That sentiment was clearly not shared by Kihilix’s compatriots, however, as one of his men let out a deafening roar and charged toward the window. The guards from outside swarmed all over him and the other three Facinus members, restraining them as the General exited the barrier room, head held aloft, and mandibles clamped tightly to his face.

“You cheated!” One of the Facinus men screamed in vocals choked with grief and rage. “Coward! _Culus! Nothi!"_

“Let us see the footage!” The female guard shouted, teeth flashing under the florescent lights as she pushed against the two larger guards holding her back.

“Project the high-speed footage!” The older man who Captain Cassius had first spoken to ordered.

In due order the cameras were removed from the room and the video played for all assembled. The footage clearly showed neither combatant used a kinetic barrier, and that Kihilix’s shot had barely missed Partinx before the General turned his calculated fury upon him.

Mandibles drooping and subharmonics keening, the Facinus guards were led outside. Gwen wondered what would happen to them and if they would truly be released, or if the colonist forces would simply kill them and quietly dispose of the bodies.

"The prize here is the life of one enemy, not the entire course of the war." Gwen heard Partinax say to a group of starry eyed onlookers. “I have full confidence that General Malolin will find and likewise eradicate the last of the Facinus leaders and that Taetrus can finally begin to heal.”

 _A showman indeed_ , Gwen thought. The General certainly was an impressive shot, she’d hand him that, but his single-minded focus on destroying Facinus made her wonder how the people of Eluria would ever truly heal once the armed conflict was over. How would you ever be able to trust your neighbors again, knowing that they’d helped cause the destruction of your home and death of your friends and family?

She felt like she was walking through a dense fog as she and Captain Cassius filed out of the building, the setting sun and pastel sunset a mockery of the cobalt stained event she’d just watched – and encouraged. She supposed taking out another leader of the terrorist organization was compensation enough, but knowing that the vid footage of the duel was about to be scrubbed instead of used against the monsters who were continuing to fight Tassius and his men left her feeling…

Her omni-tool pinged as she walked back to the skycar with the Captain. Figuring it was Aurelius or else Scarlet Gwen ignored it, choosing instead to stare out the window while the Captain headed back toward Vallum.

“I’ll drop you off at your residence,” he was saying. “I imagine you’ll want some time to consider what you just saw before speaking with anyone from the media. It was made known you were to be a witness.”

Gwen felt herself nod, still not fully awake it seemed. And when the Captain dropped her off at her door, she wandered aimlessly into the empty living room and sat on the couch staring at the blank vidscreen until shadows began to creep along the wall, signaling the arrival of dark.

Realizing she’d need to pick up Brutus, but not feeling up to driving, Gwen lifted her tool to ask Teddy if he could get the chick that evening. As she did so, she noticed a new message and opened it.

Her eyes narrowed as a video began to play before she gasped into the quiet of the still house. Hitting pause, she stared slack jawed at the image of General Partinax standing over the dead body of Kihilix Tanus.

While thoughts flashed through her mind as to the who, the why, and the how she got this vid, the biggest question as she sat staring at her wrist was “what now?” Alone in the swiftly darkening room, she realized she didn’t know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, life has gotten busier lately and I might not be able to make biweekly updates. Rest assured though, I will never abandon this fic, even if my upload schedule runs a bit late.
> 
> Also, Tiberius’s girlfriend, Lily Evans, belongs to the lovely Amariahellcat. We’re character sharing and I highly recommend her fic “Broken Souls.”


	9. Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorden mos – A term for lowly, craven cowards of the worst variety

The sound of his boots against the steel and concrete floor made for a dull, monotonous harmony. Numb as he was to the refurnished grandeur of the Primarch’s office, Tassius found an odd tranquility in the sounds of his foot falls as he marched to the room at the far end of the hall.

His reports of possessed separatist soldiers and bewitching prothean artifacts smuggled onto Eluria had been met with questions and skepticism from General Partinax. Understandably so, as Tassius himself would have likely written such claims off as the ravings and hallucinations of battle fatigued soldiers. However, past experience with these objects and the erratic behavior their possessors had displayed were enough to convince Tassius that something eviler than anarchy was seeping into the minds of rebel soldiers in Madra.

As he entered the large, circular office where Primarch Valen had established himself, Tassius was met by General Partinax and two aids. The older General turned and acknowledged him with a nod before vocalizing to his assistants to leave the room.

Once alone, Partinax strode over to him, his silver eyes searching Tassius’s face for something that he couldn’t seem to find.

“General Malolin, your recent reports from Madra raise serious concerns,” Partinax said, abandoning his scrutiny for the time being. “Enemy combatants going insane, self-mutilation and enchantment from ancient prothean relics?” He shook his head. “You will have to enlighten me on the gravity of the situation. All other reports tend to show an imminent victory over the Diluvians.”

“Progress has gained momentum in Madra.” Tassius said, hands clasped behind his back. “The separatist forces have been all but eradicated in the city proper; their last stronghold is Kasatum Fortress. We would have taken it by now, but its hardpoint-grade kinetic barriers are resistant to mass accelerator attacks.” Tassius felt his mandibles pinch into his face as he considered his next words.

“The separatist forces still actively fighting are… blighted. There’s something fundamentally wrong with them; their eyes are dead and clouded, yet burn with an internal, almost mechanical blue glow. Many have wires and cables surgically implanted into their infected flesh.” Tassius rumbled in discomfort at the memory of one particularly ghoulish solider he’d come across; plates sloughing off from rot and teeth replaced with copper nails. The man had stared at him unseeing, blue blood a disquieting shade of pitch as he muttered about “synthesis” and other unnerving concepts.

“Chemical weapons?” Partinax asked, gaze boring into Tassius’s own. “The humans and salarians have already accused us of that, but is there merit to these claims?” The old General made an irritated buzzing sound in his subvocals. “By the spirits if those _sorden mos_ have created chemical weapons capable of that kind of mental degradation and deformity I’ll – ”

“I don’t believe that any turian made weapon – chemical or mechanical – is responsible for what we’ve been seeing in the enemy.” Tassius cut in. “There were prothean artifacts found at a house in Madra where Vamire Squaron had been hiding. I’ve seen these objects before. There’s something malign about them; they bore into people’s minds, drive them insane.”

Partinax stared hard at Tassius, searching for some trace of a lie in what he’d said. Finding none, he blew a deep breath out through his nose. “If there’s prothean weapons being used in Madra – and make no mistake General Malolin, no matter how benign these objects might appear if they’re capable of doing what you say, then they are weapons – then I want them all accounted for and anyone under their influence killed immediately.”

The older man looked down to the gold veins cutting through the office floor, a growl to his voice when he straightened his posture to regard Tassius once more. “I will **not** have it made public that the separatists are being influenced by ancient weaponry. The last thing we need is for the anarchists to garner some type of galactic sympathy, or worse – council interest.”

His superior turned to Tassius with an air of finality to his words as he said, “this is a Hierarchy matter and it will remain as such. Any outside interference will only set back our victory. All prothean weapons your forces discover are to be treated as dangerous and packaged for immediate transport to Palaven.”

“Sir,” Tassius began carefully. “Doesn’t the law surrounding prothean artifacts state that they must be handed over to – ”

“General Malolin,” Partinax said, face as unmoving as stone. “You are under direct orders not to mention this to anyone, to kill any infected soldiers you come into contact with, and to immediately send any prothean artifacts back to Palaven. Do you understand, General Malolin, or have you yourself been infected by these objects?”

Tassius’s eyes bulged and his spine turned to steel at the unspoken implication. “I understand perfectly, General Partinax.” He replied, stripping his subvocals of any emotion. “I will do my duty.”

“Good.” Partinax said. “This war is as much with public opinion and the media as it is with tactics and gunfire. The Hierarchy must **never** look weak. Dismissed, General Malolin. Take that Fortress and finish this.”

General Partinax turned his back on Tassius to ostensibly admire the banner of Taetrus hung up on the wall. Tassius nodded to his superior’s back and walked out the door and down the long hall, his footsteps marking time.

 _Victory at any cost_ , his mind whispered as he opened the door to his skycar. He bit back a frustrated keen as the grief and despair he’d been eternally seeking to bury came frothing to the surface. He could feel it pushing against his plates, creating a network of small, intricate fractures that spread ever outward, threatening to break him.

_No._

He was a turian General. He followed orders, he won battles, he acted with logic and fortitude and honor. He would not shatter, he would not let his emotions wreck him.

He was a General. He didn’t have the luxury of grief, but he’d survive this. He wouldn’t break. Sucking in a deep breath to calm himself, Tassius gripped the wheel of the skycar with trembling hands and headed for home.

He wouldn’t break.

**********

Gwen had taken the morning off work. No one had questioned it; everyone seemed to think she needed time to sort out her thoughts on the events from the day before. They weren’t wrong, necessarily, but Gwen had stayed up all night staring at her omni-tool and the unknown sender who had sent her the bootlegged vid.

Presently she was seated on the couch with Brutus, who was busy chewing on a lock of her hair. Whenever she took it away the chick shrieked and keened, and not being in a state of mind to discipline the child or else distract him, Gwen sighed and let him have his fun.

She needed to do something with this vid; last night a message had found its way onto the news claiming to be from Kihilix Tanus. The deceased leader had called upon Taetruns to resist colonist forces, saying the safe camps were a lie and that the “age of empires” was over. Gwen frown at the memory before glancing down to her tool once more.

She was supposed to have an interview with the Alliance News Network later that evening. Should she hand over the vid? People seemed to still believe Kihilix was alive, wouldn’t showing them otherwise actually save lives, even if it did break a few archaic laws?

Unsure who to turn to and not wanting to involve her brothers when they were scheduled to leave the next day, Gwen’s hand hovered over her contact list before finally dialing Scarlet. She wasn’t sure how much insight her friend would have into the matter, but maybe just talking to someone outside the conflict would be helpful?

“Hello!” Scarlet answered, her face a perfect picture of rage.

“Letty, is something – ”

“Damn right something’s wrong!” Scarlet yelled. “Did you hear what that raciest old dick-hole Carson Noble said about quarians? Someone caught him on video looking at my collection and asking, like a pompous piece of shit, “since when are we getting ideas from that gypsy race? What's next, vorcha cuisine at the buffet?"

Scarlet flared her nostrils. “Praaza was literally in tears last night. It’s hard enough for people to get a start in this industry - let alone quarians - but for the owner of Fashion Magazine to say something so demeaning and cruel… it’s absolutely disgusting.”

“What are you going to do?” Gwen asked, remembering how Scarlet had smashed the windshield to her ex-boyfriends skycar when he’d started telling people Gwen was bitch after their break-up.

“I’m going to _snub_ him, Gwen.” Scarlet said, a malicious smile crossing her perfect, cherry red lips. “I’m not going to show up for his stupid, pretentious Gala, and I’m going to make sure everyone knows _why_ I’m not there.” Scarlet cackled at her plan before suddenly remembering herself and eyes going wide said, “oh my god! Here I am bitching about Fashion Week on Illium and snubbing people and you’re in a war! What’s wrong? What happened?”

Gwen sucked in a breath. “I got something,” she said. “Someone – I have no idea who – sent me the video of General Partinax killing the Facius leader in their duel yesterday.”

“What?” Scarlet asked, eyes narrowed, and brow creased. “Why would someone send you that? Isn’t it illegal to photograph or take video of turian dead?”

“It is,” Gwen said with a nod that pulled her hair out of Brutus’s mouth. The chick squealed, grabbing for more hair to chew. Gwen ignored him, raising her voice to speak louder as she continued, “whoever sent me this obviously wants me to give it to the media. And I actually think it’d be a good thing if the Hierarchy and people of Taetrus had video evidence that Kihilix is dead.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Scarlet asked. “Do you need somewhere to send it that won’t implicate you?”

“No…” Gwen trailed off as her meeting with the one-eyed woman at the spaceport flitted through her memory. “It’s just, I was the only human at the duel. Everyone will suspect me if a vid gets out.”

“Bigger question is then, who else would want this video to make its way galactic?” Scarlet mused.

“I actually had a thought about that last night,” Gwen said with a sigh as she handed the now screaming chick a new lock of hair. “General Partinax is all about show: every speech he gives is geared toward victory and Hierarchy superiority. And yesterday Cato, Tassius’s old friend, said something about Partinax wanting to look larger than life to humanity, like some real war deity.”

“You think the General sent you the vid himself?” Scarlet questioned with a thoughtful look. “That… actually makes a ton of sense. What better way to paint himself as a big shot without getting his hands dirty?”

“That’s kinda what I was thinking,” Gwen agreed. “Problem is, I doubt anyone in the Hierarchy would believe me. Building yourself up in the news media isn’t exactly…” Gwen trailed off trying to find the right words.

“It isn’t very turian,” Scarlet finished. “Doesn’t mean he wouldn’t do it though. Have you talked to Prenia at all? Asked her if her dad would do something like that?”

“Prenia has some high-level military job in Cipritine,” Gwen answered. “I wouldn’t want to get her involved in this. Besides, I don’t think she’s very close with her dad. For as long as I’ve known her she’s hardly ever spoken about him.”

“Well…” Scarlet said drawing out the word. “You’re a citizen of Taetrus. Do you really think this vid getting released to the media would help the war effort?”

“Regardless of who sent it, yeah, I do.” Gwen said feeling like a weight had been lifted off her chest with the admission.

“Then, in that case, I say give it to someone who can keep your name out of it. They can suspect you all they want but they can’t do anything if there’s no proof it was you.” Scarlet said.

“That’s true,” Gwen agreed. “Thanks Letty, you’re the best. I think I know what I’m going to do now.”

“You can call me anytime,” Scarlet said. “But now, it sounds like you have a video to release and I have a party to avoid. We’ll talk your time tomorrow, okay?”

“Deal,” Gwen said before ending the call.

Pulling her bedraggled hair out of Brutus’s mouth, Gwen carried the whining chick into the kitchen and set him up in his feeding ring. Brutus chirped and pounded his tiny fists on the fabric of the ring, subvocals demanding “food” as Gwen hurried to get him a snack. Positioning herself in a chair in front of her son, she began to feed him as she mentally plotted her next move. She’d need to be efficient if she wanted to keep her interview slot with the Alliance.

As soon as the chick was full, Gwen hurried to clean his face and get him distracted with a vid and doll. For some reason the chick enjoyed the announcer for the Hierarchy clawball league. She switched on a game and Brutus slowly turned to focus on the screen and players taking the field, holding his woolly lamb doll close to his chest. Remy had probably paid a small fortune for the doll, but Brutus loved the thing and the twins had gotten a good laugh at “Lamb Chop and his lamby.”

 Grinning at him in amusement, Gwen pulled up her contacts before sending a message to Genevieve Mueller requesting a meeting. The response was almost immediate:

**G. Mueller [Planet Taetrus, Mactare System]**

**1009**

**Ms. Malolin, I can meet you in Dilix in one hour. I’ll send you the coordinates.**

Gwen’s fingers flew over her omni tool as she coordinated with Kamala to come pick up Brutus. Then, throwing on her standard issue fatigues and putting her hair up in a haloed braid Gwen prepared to leave.

**********

The wooded area on the boarder of Dilix was the perfect location for a covert meeting. Thick with thorny bushes and hardwood trees in various stages of petrification, few people traveled there before the Vallum blast, and now the place was practically void of sentient life.

Gwen’s feet crunched over branches and rocks until she reached the fallen trunk of what once must have been a truly impressive tree. Standing taller than she was even on its side, bark almost entirely turned to stone, Gwen spotted her contact leaning against its uneven surface.

“Right on time,” the one-eyed woman noted as Gwen approached. Rising from her position, “Genevieve” walked up to Gwen but didn’t move to shake her hand. Just as well since Gwen wasn’t feeling particularly chummy.

Pulling out a small OSD chip from her pants pocket, Gwen held it out to the older woman in silent offering. Hesitating for only a moment, the white-haired agent took it gingerly between two fingers, holding it up to her one blue eye.

“It’s footage of the duel between General Partinax and the Facinus leader,” Gwen said in answer to the unspoken question. “It shows that the General killed Kihilix in a fair duel.”

Genevieve raised her white eyebrows, eye focusing back on Gwen. “This certainly is something of interest,” the older woman replied. “But I sense you aren’t looking for any type of repayment and would rather be a silent benefactor?”

“You’d be correct,” Gwen acknowledged. “Wait until after my interview this evening with the Alliance news to give this over to your… employer. The further away I am from it the better.”

The older woman nodded. “I can do that,” she answered, tucking the chip into a pocket on her vest. “Your assistance in this matter is greatly appreciated. You’ve done the turian people a great service.”

Gwen coughed out a bitter laugh. “Somehow I doubt my husband will see it that way,” she said, mind now picturing how upset Tassius would be with her.

“You did what you had to do. Your husband will understand performing a duty.”

“What I _had_ to do?” Gwen scoffed. “You clearly haven’t spent much time around turians. Rules are what they care about. I can only hope that this footage aids the war effort like I think it will.” She shook her head as images of Tassius’s betrayed face filled her mind. “You don’t know what it’s like to betray the one you love,” she said mostly to herself.

“Maybe I do,” the agent whispered in a voice so soft yet mournful that Gwen was taken by surprise. But when she looked back to the older woman she had already turned and was walking out of the petrified forest, albeit with hunched shoulders.

Gwen leaned back against the trunk of the ancient tree. She had to tell him, of course. Something like this couldn’t stay a dark secret between them. She’d done the right thing, she was sure of it. But, if it was the right thing, why was she so distraught at having to tell Tassius? A thick blanket of dread settled on her shoulders as she walked back to her skycar; heavy and suffocating.

 _Tassius, please understand._ She thought. _Please, don’t hate me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this was so delayed! Hopefully people are still enjoying this fic.
> 
> Gwen’s shadowy associate is actually Ellie Hunter, who belongs to the wonderful Squiggly_squid! You can read more about her in the “Parable” series which I highly recommend. Thank you for letting me borrow her Squiggly!


	10. The Deepest Wells

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothi – A colloquial Taetrun word, basically means “bastard.”
> 
> Carissime – A Palaveni endearment, means loosely “my dearest love.” 
> 
> Sorora – translates to “chosen sister” and is a term to describe a deep, familial relationship between two women unrelated by blood.

It was well into the evening by the time he finally pulled up to the house he’d been granted months ago. He noted dimly that the gravel pathway had been replaced with stone at some point and wondered what else had changed in the time he’d been away.

He heard footsteps approach as he walked into the front room. He was greeted first by Fizzgig, who yipped and swirled around his booted feet like a furry dervish, before he heard a soft gasp, followed by “Tass?”

Gwen was still dressed in fatigues with hair hanging in a damp looking braid as Brutus clutched onto the fabric of her shirt, staring at him suspiciously.

He expected her to run to him; fold into his embrace as was her typical greeting when they’d been separated. He was hurt more than he cared to admit when she hung back and didn’t immediately seek his touch.

 _No!_ Brutus vocalized to him.

 _No?_ He questioned back, saddened he’d clearly missed the chick’s first subharmonics.

 _No no no!_ Brutus repeated in his small subvocals, a squawk to his primary voice as he pushed himself under Gwen’s chin.

“Lamb Chop, what’s wrong?” Gwen asked, running a hand down the chick’s back in a soothing motion. “It’s daddy.”

“He doesn’t recognize me.” Tassius said flatly, even though he couldn’t be sure that was the case. “I’ve been gone too long,” he said with a dejected sigh, moving to pull his boots off since Gwen was apparently not in the hugging mood.

“That’s not true,” Gwen said softly. “He’s just tired and clingy. Huh Brutus? You remember daddy.”

The chick watched Tassius carefully from his place in Gwen’s arms as the larger turian went about removing his greaves before heading toward the master bedroom to change out of his armor.

Gwen followed him almost hesitantly, Fizzgig trotting along by her side.

“Tass, have you seen or heard the nightly news yet?” She asked.

Tassius grunted as he removed his paldrons. “I had it on as I drove over. Why?”

“Did you hear about the vid of the duel between Partinax and Kihilix getting leaked?” She asked, still hanging back in the doorway.

Tassius let out a humorless huff. “I heard.” He said. “I’m disappointed, but not surprised. Seems like something some lowdown _nothi_ would do.”

“Do you think it’s a good thing, though?” Gwen pressed. “To show people that Kihilix is actually dead?”

Tassius turned to look at her as he pulled off his under-armor. “That vid is a disgrace,” he said. “Someone has already made a parody out of it with that terrible human rap song, “My Bitch Now,” playing in the background.” He shook his head. The social taboo was a bit outdated, but it irked him how many parodies and views the thing was already garnering. Not that Kihilix deserved better. He wasn’t truly a turian after all, but a monster. Tassius grimaced.

“So, you don’t think it’s helped sway public opinion about the conflict at all?” Gwen asked, sounding defensive.

“Spirits Gwen why are you so interested in that infernal vid?” He growled out.

“Because _I’m_ the _nothi_ that released it!” She said loudly.

He stared at her in disbelief. No. Gwen respected his people, _him_ too much to break the laws. She wouldn’t –

“Nobody believed he was dead,” she said, voice level but eyes pleading. “I thought if there was proof he was killed in a fair duel, that he _was_ dead, then maybe some of the sympathizers would defect to the safe camps. And they HAVE Tassius, it did make a difference.”

“You released the vid?” He asked, still frozen in place but limbs gradually thawing under the burn of betrayal and hurt scorching through his veins.

Gwen squared her shoulders and defiantly lifted her chin. “I did. It made a difference. It was the right thing to do, even if Partinax is using it to make himself out to be some legendary warrior.”

“How could you do that?” Tassius yelled, biotics pulsing under his skin in agitation as the rest of the days – _months_ – stresses suddenly erupted out of the carefully excavated pit he’d buried them in. “Do you realize you’ve committed a felony? Do you know the danger you’ve put yourself – our _family_ in?” He was distinctly aware he was screaming and that the chick was likewise shrieking as energy sparked off him like biotic lightning, illuminating the room in a foreboding blue glow.

“How could you?” He yelled, memories of his conversation with Partinax flooding his minds’ eye. “Not you too! Why – ”

The pit exploded as pain, hurt, anger, grief, and betrayal burst skyward; an eruption of filthy obsidian weakness cloaked in the effervescent light of his biotics as they surged, rattling drawers and knocking pictures off the walls. His keen was deep and resonant, ripped from the very heart of his overwhelming pain.

“Why?” He pathetically cried, slumping against the bed, eyes squeezed shut and face turned away.

“Don’t hate me!” Gwen yelled, voice cracking as a wet sounding sob escaped her throat. “You aren’t here! You don’t know what it’s like!”

Fizzgig howled as keens, sobs, and wails filled the room in a cacophony of misery.

Somehow, Tassius had survived months in enemy territory – gunfire and explosions as familiar to him as the murmur of conversation in a kava shop had once been – only to die here, at home. Because this had to be what death felt like; lonely, forsaken, and cold.

His parents were dead; slaughtered in a senseless act of violence. He was killing his own people, putting imaginary masks over their faces to make them out as “other.” And when he’d discovered that they really were infected, really were monsters – the result of some ancient Prothean weapon – the person in charge sought to smother the information.

And now his mate had forsaken him too; committing a felony and acting as though that meant nothing. That it wouldn’t rip his gizzard out to watch her be placed in cuffs and formally charged.

He felt a wave of nausea wash over him at the thought of Gwen being taken away, and his body convulsed in biotic heaves.

He was alone.

Alone.

The sudden, soft touch of a five fingered hand on his shoulder startled him enough to open his eyes. Though still foggy with grief, Gwen’s eyes shone like duel lanterns, guiding him back out of the seemingly bottomless pit that had swallowed him.

“I’m sorry,” she said, voice raw.  “I should have consulted you first… It can’t be traced back to me… but I should have told you. I’m so sorry.”

Brutus was seated on the floor a short distance away still screaming in his subvocals, though more out of anger than fear. Gwen moved to press herself into his space, arms winding around his neck as she straddled him and pulled herself as close as possible. She was at once warm and soft and _home_.

Greedily he clung to her, to the one thing he still had left. She wasn’t perfect or pure as many human poems proclaimed their lady loves to be, but she was _her_ and that was all he’d ever wanted.

Closing his eyes again, he allowed himself to keen some more. He breathed in Gwen’s familiar scent as he pressed his face into her neck; a slight hint of citrus, something earthy, the chick, and now him. Shuddering with a final soft keen, he focused on getting his breathing back under control.

Feeling something grab onto his outstretched leg he opened his eyes to see Brutus’s small face peering up at him nervously.

 _No?_ The chick questioned.

 _I’m sorry I frightened you little one._ He vocalized, stretching out a hand to gently pet Brutus’s small fringe.

Gwen shuffled in his lap and turning so her back was against him, reached out to pull Brutus back into her arms. Brutus sighed as she rocked him gently in her lap before starting to sing:

Whoa…

My love

My darlin

 

I’ve hungered for

Your touch

Alone.

 

Lonely time.

Tassius adjusted his position on the floor so Gwen could sit more comfortably as he curled his arms around his small family and began to sing along with his mate in his subvocals:

_And time_

_Goes by_

_So slowly_

 

_And time_

_Can do so much_

_Are you still mine?_

Tassius glanced to Gwen, the final lyric a real question.

Gwen smiled as she leaned the side of her face against his, nuzzling against him.

“I need your love.” She sighed against him. “I’ll always want you, Tass.”

 _I love you._ He told her scenting her brow and giving himself over to the feeling of belonging. The planet was going to hell, but here, in this room, with his mate and child, he was safe, and he could have the luxury of grief.

**********

He awoke with a soft moan as the mattress dipped under Gwen’s returning weight. It took him a moment to remember where he was, and relief flooded his body as Gwen pressed against him; an island of warmth in the cool, white sea of sheets and pillows.

“Where’d you go?” He asked groggily even as he pulled her tightly into his arms.

“I put Brutus in his own bed,” she answered softly. “He’ll sleep better in there.”

Tassius hummed, running a hand along her side and noticing that his talons caught the fabric of her shirt as he did so. How long had it been since he’d filed them? He usually kept them blunted, not wanting to inadvertently scratch his much softer skinned mate.

Despite the late hour, he found his hands wandering down to grab at Gwen’s ass and pull her flush against him. He rumbled to her in question. Gwen rocked against him in response as the scent of her growing arousal filled his nostrils.

Lifting her head, she began to trail wet, sucking kisses along his unplated neck as her hands ran along his pectoral plates.

Fully awake now, Tassius pushed a hand under Gwen’s loose night shirt, sliding it up to her chin. Gwen chuckled before leaning back and pulling it over her head to toss unceremoniously onto the floor.

Spirits she was perfect! He could feel his cock pressing against his groin plates, desperate to reconnect with her and move together. He moved a hand to cup a breast while the other snaked down between them to rub at the apex between her thighs.

In their exhausted motions to lie down after their fight, Gwen hadn’t bothered with pants or underwear and Tassius groaned as he ran the pad of his thumb along her wet slit, halting only to rub against her clit.

“Fuck, yes!” Gwen whispered in an airy tone, pressing herself against his hand. Using two fingers to spread her sodden folds, Tassius rubbed the tip of his unsheathed cock against her.

“Shit Tass! I want you!” She said.

She pushed against him, encouraging him to lie on his back. He allowed her to take control and obediently rolled over, shoving a pillow under his fringe. She straddled him and pushing her warm, wet cunt against his fully emerged cock, ran herself up his length, closing her eyes at the sensation.

It’d been too long, and his body screamed at him to be inside her; fuck her, breed her – though of course that wasn’t possible without medical intervention – and he didn’t try to restrain his whining subvocals as he coughed out a lewd moan in his main voice.

“Please, Gwen!” He begged trying to keep his voice to a husky whisper so as not to wake the chick.

Turning around so her ass and inviting center were on full display, Gwen took him in a small but firm hand and aligning him with her opening, sank down onto him with a drawn-out moan.

The two froze for a moment, awash in the sensation of being united in perfect intimacy. Slowly, Gwen rose up on shaky legs before quickly slamming back down onto him with a wet sounding smack of flesh against damp hide.

Tassius bent his knees so Gwen could grind herself against the smooth plates of his thighs.

“Spirits _carissime,_ you feel amazing,” he breathed, trying and failing to tamp down on a subvocal moan. Her wet folds against his legs, tight, warm cunt squeezing his cock coupled with her breathy moans and the heady, thick scent of their combined arousal had him drunk on ecstasy and rushing toward his own completion.

“I’m close Gwen! Fuck I’m so close!” He warned grabbing her around her slim waist rough enough to bruise. “I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna cum!”

Gwen’s movements faltered as she pressed herself against him more firmly on a downward stroke, before a choked off moan escaped her throat and her hips spasmed as her orgasm burnt through her. Tassius moved with a speed and ferocity he seldom possessed off the battlefield and pulling her off his throbbing dick, he positioned himself on top of her, seizing her wrists in one hand and holding them above her head as he slid inside her welcoming heat once more and began to pound into her, eyes closed, and mandibles flared.

 _Mine!_ His subvocals cried as Gwen mewled and writhed under him, still sensitive from her own release. With two more deep thrusts he spent himself inside her with a shout of her name, knot swelling and locking them together.  

Arms shaking, he collapsed over her with a gasp. When he opened his eyes, his vision was filled with Gwen reaching up to pull his face to hers.

As he caught his breath, he looked down at her, repentant. “I’m sorry I yelled at you,” he told her.

“It’s alright,” she replied with gentle eyes.

He shook his head. “It’s not,” he said. “We… I haven’t been as open with you as I should. We need to talk, communicate better.”

Gwen began to trace the colony markings on his cheeks with soft fingers. “So, let’s talk.” She said. “I’ll go first.”

*********** 

Despite moving as though she had lead coursing through her veins, Gwen was more relaxed and at peace than she’d been in weeks. She’d stayed up nearly all night talking with Tassius; she told him of feeling like a single parent and her frustrations, of the stresses and expectations laid upon her by the Hierarchy and to a lesser extent, her own people.

And in return, Tassius had finally opened up to her about his parents; his rage and grief over their deaths and fear he’d lose what remaining family and friends he still had, leaving him alone. He told her of his disillusionment with General Partinax, and growing concern over ancient Prothean weapons discovered in Madra.

It had been emotionally draining and they’d both ended up shedding a few more tears and keens before the sun rose, but overall, she felt closer to her husband in a way she hadn’t before. They’d officially seen each other at their lowest and neither had fled. Her confidence in their ability to preserver was stronger than ever when Tassius eventually had to leave once more and return to the battle front. Not even a cryptic message from her sister-in-law asking to meet and discuss “something important” could dampen her spirits and determination.

Livia arrived at the Weapons Destruction Facility twenty minutes ahead of schedule with a downward glance to her autumn eyes and nervous trill to her vocals.

“What’s going on Liv?” Gwen asked, stifling a yawn. “Were you able to talk to Tass at all before he left this morning?”

“Yeah, we talked, but…” Livia trailed off as she knotted her fingers together, staring down at the compacted earth of the parking lot.

“I got an offer Gwen. Something incredible that I’d be a fool not to take – but if I do, I’ll never see you, or Tassius, or Brutus again.”

“What kind of offer?” Gwen asked suspiciously. “And why couldn’t you see your family again?”

“It’s with an organization called The Initiative,” Livia said finally looking up. “They’re leaving in a few weeks on a mission for Andromeda. It’s a one-way trip – I’d be in a cryogenic sleep for 600 years.”

Gwen could feel her jaw drop as the implications sank in through her addled mind. “That’s…” she trailed off with a hum. “You’re not considering it for the money, I take it?” Gwen asked, trying to understand.

“Livia shook her head. “I dunno Gwen. I’m still young, and I just don’t feel like I have ties here anymore. Not that I don’t love you, Tassius and Brutus!” She hastened to add. “But you two have each other and a chick. After losing my mom and dad… Well, I don’t want to sit and wonder what if. This is the opportunity of a lifetime to explore a new galaxy as one of the leading technicians on a state-of-the-art space station.”

Livia squared her shoulders, mandibles pulled firmly to her face as she went on, “I’ve already made up my mind. I’ll regret it forever if I don’t go, but I want to leave with your blessing.”

Gwen didn’t miss the hopeful subvocals. Shaking her head slightly she gave the younger woman a sad, if not encouraging smile. “I never had a sister before you came along.” She said. “It’s going to hurt not having you around to talk with, to make fun of Tass and help me program my omni-tool. But I know what it’s like to choose your own path. I’ll miss you – a lot. But you have my blessing, and my love.”

Livia made a soft chirp of surprise before seizing Gwen in a human style hug. “Thank you _sorora_.” She whispered. “I love you too.”

The two women stood embracing and talking until Livia had to return to her posting – albeit for the last time before unofficially going awol and leaving for the Citadel. There would be final goodbyes later, which was why parting wasn’t as difficult as Gwen might have suspected.

Tassius would be hurt; his sense of loneliness exacerbated by having to say farewell to his only sibling. But he’d never try to force Livia to stay on Taetrus. Not when rebuilding his own life was hard enough. He respected his younger sister above all else, and Gwen knew he’d eventually give her his blessings too.

Still, as Livia’s skycar pulled out onto the main highway and sped off, Gwen couldn’t help but feel as though a piece of her heart was leaving her too. Her mind flashed unbidden to a conversation she’d had with Tassius the night before.

He’d told her hearts were like mountains; strong and thick, unmovable but still susceptible to erosion over time with the constant battering from life and loss; like desert winds against once tall monoliths that over the millennia were reduced to rubble.

“I don’t think hearts are like desert rocks.” She’d told him. “I think they’re like deep wells. Sometimes they may run dry, but if they’re dug in the right place, they’ll fill again. They can spill over with how much love they have to offer and give life and meaning to all the flowers in their wake.”

Tassius had given her a deep, human style kiss. “I like that analogy better,” he’d told her.

Even if buckets of water were removed with Livia’s departure, Gwen’s well would always remain full. As Livia’s skycar vanished from sight, Gwen silently prayed that the same would also be true for her beautiful sister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took awhile, but, as promised, here's the smut both Gwen and Tassius deserved. Hope the wait was worth it!


	11. At Any Cost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: graphic descriptions of death and destruction 
> 
> Domina – A polite version of “ma'am” used for people outside the military. 
> 
> Irruma – Turian curse word similar to “fuck” though not as frequently used.

The air was thick with the smells of singed steel and burnt leather. There was a metallic tang to the atmosphere that Gwen could practically taste, and the air had a near imperceptible brownish quality to it. Had her mother been there, Terra Kedar would have been fretting about carcinogens and cancer.

Despite this, the Weapons Destruction Facility had become almost like a second home to Gwen. The former steelworks plant turned prison, turned destruction operation was familiar by now, and Gwen was intimately acquainted with the various machines and incinerators in near constant use.

There was an order to the Facility her addled psyche had come to crave throughout the tumult of losing her home and in-laws and taking on the new responsibilities of mother and overseer of operations. Which was why three days ago when a full infantry platoon arrived at the Facility on hardly a moment’s notice, Gwen was more upset than she should have been.

In total there were 36 soldiers in medium to heavy-grade armor roaming about the grounds and brandishing their firearms and generally serving no other purpose then to put Gwen and everyone else on edge.

“What, precisely, were Tassius’s reasons for sending them here?” Gwen asked Lieutenant Scartos irritably on the third day, as she stood hands akimbo on her hips watching the soldiers’ mundane patrolling distract the assigned workers.

The Lieutenant glanced up from the data pad he’d been reading, teal eyes bright and alert. “General Malolin has encountered stiff separatist resistance at Kasatum Fortress. He has information that suggests the rebels are desperate enough to try to steal back confiscated firearms.” Scartos replied as though reciting from a script. “The platoon is a safety precaution since this is the largest destruction operation on the planet.”

“Right.” Gwen said turning to glare out over the facility floor at the far too many people parading around without an actual job. Losing his parents had made Tassius more protective of the remaining family he had. Gwen couldn’t help but wonder if he would have sent a platoon to the Facility if _she_ hadn’t been working there.

 “Can they at least do something useful?” She huffed in frustration. “There’s way too many useless bodies out here.”

The Lieutenant hummed before glancing behind him at the open door and gate beyond. “There’s four men patrolling the parking lot, perhaps another two could be assigned to watch the entrance.” It wasn’t a question and was muttered mostly to himself with an arrogant tap of a talon against his chin as though the issue were a heavy one requiring deep consideration.

“Thaddeus, send two people to watch the damn gate and then coordinate with the platoon leader so I’m not looking at bored soldiers for the rest of the day.” Gwen ordered.

She didn’t miss the insulted subharmonics that followed her casual command as she turned to head into the small cell she’d claimed as her own personal workspace. Closing the makeshift door did little to abate the persistent grind and clang of the machinery, but at least she didn’t have to see anyone and could focus on the reports and data spread sheets the Hierarchy was constantly demanding.

Sighing, she logged into her desk terminal and began to read the message marked **_Urgent_** , from Captain Cassius. She was about halfway through the Captain’s long-winded explanation about why missile launchers needed to be accounted for on a separate spreadsheet when a loud series of knocks at the large wooden door pulled her from her reading with a jolt.

“Yes?” She answered tersely.

The door pulled open and Susan stomped into her office, expression one of poorly concealed rage.

“ _Domina_ Malolin, Corporal Naxxus has gone too far!” Susan hissed, subvocals radiating outrage. “He purposely urinated on the bathroom floor and then ordered me to clean it while he stood by drinking kava, and then he poured half the kava on the floor as soon as I’d finished mopping!” Susan stared at Gwen expectantly, arms crossed.

“Susan, you were a part of a terrorist organization that destroyed Aurelius’ home and resulted in the deaths of many of his friends and family. If you can’t handle being bullied, then perhaps you should seek work elsewhere.” Gwen replied in her sweetest, most condescending tone.

She expected Susan to get angry over this dismissal and was taken aback when the older turian visibly deflated, shoulders slumping and mandibles drooping.

“My shame is worse than any torment Corporal Naxxus can concoct.” He said quietly with a minute shake of his head. “I never wanted… _this_!” He gestured behind him at the conveyor belt loaded with guns and munitions being expertly dissembled before getting loaded into a massive furnace and melted down.

“Facinus preached racial supremacy and hatred.” Gwen answered with narrow eyes as she steepled her fingers. “Even if I can understand wanting independence and a greater say in planetary politics, Facinus _and_ you regard my species as greedy usurpers. It’s going to take more than cleaning floors to redeem yourself of that raciest taint.” Gwen glanced back at her terminal.

“If you don’t like Corporal Naxxus’s behavior, you’re free to leave at any time. Your guilt and treatment are well earned.”

Out of the corner of her eye Gwen saw Susan nod his head softly before exiting the room. Gwen sighed in exasperation once he’d left. She didn’t doubt Susan regretted his involvement with an organization that left thousands of civilians dead and thousands more fighting against each other. But it was difficult to forgive his complacence and participation in the Facinus supported racism and bigotry. He’d never apologized to her anyway, though he was respectful and followed her orders without question.

Shaking her head, Gwen forced herself to focus and managed to sift through most of her messages by the time the lunch hour had arrived. Fatigued and hungry, she grabbed the sack lunch she’d packed for herself earlier that morning and went in search of Aurelius.

She found him and Lieutenant Scartos standing on the second story observation platform staring out a large window and toward the road. Frowning, Gwen jogged up the metal staircase to take a position next to them.

“What is it?” She asked squinting in an attempt to see whatever the two turians were focused on.

“Trucks.” Aurelius said pointing up the road to a puff of dust.

As she watched, two large transport trucks came into view, making their way quickly up the remote access road towards the Facility entrance. 

“We weren’t expecting any deliveries today.” Gwen said, brow furrowing. “Did anybody say something to you about a drop off?” She asked turning to Lieutenant Scartos.

The Lieutenant made a concerned whirring noise in his subharmonics. “No one mentioned a delivery to me.” His mandibles pinched tightly against his face in irritation. “Those trucks are huge, it’ll take hours to unload them!”

Gwen groaned, tipping her head back. “What the hell.” She whined. “Fine, whatever, let’s organize some people to unload and catalogue this shipment. Maybe the platoon can actually –” Her sentence was cut off by a deafening boom, like a thousand thunderbolts striking the earth simultaneously as the lead truck in the convoy slammed into the outer wall of the Facility and exploded.

She was thrown backward and into the cement wall with a painful thud as rebar, rock, and flaming debris blasted through the bullet proof window and slammed into the reinforced walls of the Facility like miniature meteorites.

The building shook, and steel screamed as the force of the blast knocked concrete from the ceiling in a deadly rain of rubble. There were shouts and curses and chaos – surely there were – but all Gwen could hear were muffled voices, drowned out by an intense ringing noise, and all she could taste was blood as she numbly moved her head from side to side.

She needed to stand up. She had to orient herself. Her body obeyed her lethargically, as though all her limbs were asleep. Slowly pushing herself onto her knees, she swayed on weak legs, closing her eyes against the pain that shot through her head at the movement.

She felt a pair of strong hands grip her and forcing her eyes open, was greeted by Aurelius’s frantic face.

“Are you okay?” He asked, though his voice sounded like she was hearing it from underwater. “Gwen, are you okay?”

Suddenly the ringing stopped, and the world came roaring back to her at full volume. She gasped before spitting out some of the bloody saliva filling her mouth. “I but muh tone.” She told Aurelius.

Reaching up with the back of her hand she wiped at the river of blood streaming down from her left nostril.

“Move! We need to move!” Lieutenant Scartos yelled, appearing next to her with an assault rifle aimed at the lower level of the Facility.

As though a soundproof room were abruptly opened the sounds of gunfire and grenades assaulted her ears.

 _Shit!_ She thought as the realization that they were under attack fully dawned on her.

She was dressed in BDU’s and had only a pistol holstered at her hip. She was unarmored, injured and still fighting to work through the fog of pain currently clouding her senses. In a word, she was useless.

Stumbling into Aurelius’s armored side, she felt the pulsing tingle of his biotics as he threw up a barrier around them and hauled her down the battered stairway. Lieutenant Scartos followed close behind them firing at the surge of invaders who crashed against the gaping entryway like waves against a cliff.

The platoon had swiftly moved into defensive positions, and the sounds of automatic weapon fire filled the air as waves of separatists exploded in blue geysers before crumpling to the ground. _There’s so many of them_ , Gwen thought with muted horror as the enemy combatants swarmed over the bodies of their fallen comrades like locusts intent on a field of wheat.

“Do not let us get overrun!” Lieutenant Scartos screamed to three infantry men positioned behind an overturned steel table. “Push them back! Where the _irruma_ is that missile launcher? I want suppressive fire NOW!”

Gwen was roughly leaned against a wall before Aurelius slapped something against her chest.  Looking down, Gwen saw the clearly recognizable container of medigel and clumsily ripping open the aluminum packaging, spread the oily, vaseline like substance over her tongue. She then rubbed a generous amount onto her pointer finger before sticking it up her bleeding nostril.

“Varren!” Aurelius suddenly yelled. “Varren pack!”

By now her adrenaline had kicked in and concussion or not, Gwen crawled over to Aurelius who still had his biotic barrier in place as the Lieutenant shot at the squads of enemy intruders with unrelenting fury.

Peering around the scorched debris they were using as cover, Gwen saw three large varren charging toward an infantry solider and what appeared to be several injured workmen. Blue, insectoid eyes bulging in excitement and rage, the leader of the pack flung itself onto the solider, pike-like teeth grabbing the turian by his forearm as it swung its massive head back and forth in a vicious, throttling motion.

Gritting her teeth, Gwen drew her pistol and focused, pupils dilating and zeroing in on her target. At long range her shots needed to hit – and count. Nostrils flared, she opened fire, hitting the attacking varren in its muscled neck. It reared back, and Gwen emptied her clip into the creature until it lay motionless on the slick ground.

“I’m out of ammo!” She called up to Aurelius who had begun to advance toward the insurgents, biotically throwing them aside as he made for the storage room where they had been keeping missile launchers.

“Lieutenant! Help them!” Gwen screamed over a sudden volley of gunfire as she gestured to where the infantry solider was attempting to fight off the remaining two varren with an omni blade.

Scartos turned his assault rifle on the attacking varren and with astounding skill, eviscerated the animals without striking anyone else.

“We have to help Aurie!” She yelled, rising to her feet.

“Are you insane!?” Scartos bellowed. “Stay behind cover!”

She wanted to argue, but the truth of the matter was that she was out of ammunition and without armor or biotic assistance.

“Gimme your pistol!” She ordered the Lieutenant.

He stared at her for a moment, as though considering denying her request, but the shouts and whizzing bullets seemed to convince him she needed some sort of protection. Reaching for the holster on his hip, he handed her his massive Brawler line pistol before returning his focus back on the separatists who had begun to seek cover among the wreckage now littering the Facility.

 Platoon members were advancing on the invaders in a hop-scotch pattern of movements; ducking behind overturned tables and machines to unleash suppressive fire before rapidly moving toward their quarry, only to halt and fire again. Scartos yelled for them to keep at it as he continued to shoot at the helmeted heads that popped up and around destroyed machinery.

Seeing that the Lieutenant was fully distracted, Gwen made her move. Lying flat on her stomach, she crawled over rocks and puddles of an unsettling cobalt blue until she was in position. A separatist sniper was methodically firing on Aurelius, bullets slamming into his barrier while he struggled to erect and activate a missile launcher that had been hauled from the storage room.

At mid-range Gwen’s accuracy wasn’t stellar, but this was a shot she’d successfully achieved dozens of times on the shooting range. Singling out her target, Gwen took in a measuring breath as she extended her arms and pulled the trigger. The turian woman screamed, head twisting to an unnatural angle as Gwen fired again, striking her this time in the neck.

Her victim crashed face first to the floor, giving Gwen a clear view at the ruined side of her face. The image reminded Gwen of a masticated piece of orange: a wet, fibrous, pulpy mess. But the color was all wrong. Too much blue on the once sandy colored plates and a grotesque, white knife smile where the left mandible had been shattered.

She’d never killed anyone before. Let alone been on an active battle field. She’d been to the sites of many historical battles – Gettysburg, Normandy, Iwo Jima – places that were once liquid with pulped men’s bodies and spangled with exploded shells and splayed bone. But all of them had been green again by the time she’d visited. The guts and the gore and the glory immortalized in stone statuary but far removed from her.

Staring at the slain turian woman in gray and red armor, Gwen suddenly felt freezing cold. Her teeth chattered, and she forced herself to turn away and crawl behind the side of a demolished wall. Wrapping her arms around her knees, she huddled from the icy blast of shock and guilt that stormed against her consciousness.

This was war. People were dying everywhere all around her. She had to snap out of it. She couldn’t let Aurelius be one of the fallen. She couldn’t –

A booming thud shook the floor causing rocks and rubble to dance and skip under the vibrations. Glancing around her cover, Gwen watched as Aurelius and several infantry soldiers began successively firing the Hawk missile launcher through the gaping entryway and toward the large chunks of wall the separatists had been using for shelter. Concrete and bodies were shredded, particulate striking Gwen in the face and forcing her to retreat behind her wall once more.

Covering her ears with her hands, she squeezed her eyes shut against the death soaring all around her on corrupted winds. She didn’t belong here. She wasn’t a solider, she didn’t belong here.

At some point the pulses and bang of weapon fire dropped off to an infrequent staccato of bullets. Then, there was a yell of something she didn’t understand and cheering and exuberant subvocals filled the air.

Daring to open her eyes and peer around the wall, Gwen watched as infantrymen rose from cover, weapons held high as shouts of “victory!” ran out.

Slowly standing, Gwen moved from around the rubble and began to pick her way over to where Aurelius was standing with two soldiers. _It’s over_ , she told herself in a consoling mantra. _We won, it’s over._

Aurelius turned to look at her, mandibles flared wide in a triumphant grin, only to have horror wash over his face. Eyes bulging, and mandibles flared wide he lunged towards her.

“Duck!”

“Look out!”

“Shoot him!”

Too slowly, Gwen turned even as she was violently shoved to the ground. The sound of a shot gun blast ricocheted against her skull as more gunfire erupted all around her. She struggled to stand but was pinned by a heavy, immovable object.

“Gwen! Spirits, Gwen!” Aurelius’ voice sounded close to hysterical, and he abruptly pushed the thing off her back, so she could crawl free. Leaning up into a seated position, Gwen looked down into Susan’s rapidly clouding eyes.

There was a gaping hole in his side and he weakly pushed against the soldier that had rushed over with a medi-kit.

“Why?” Gwen squeaked out, in too much shock to cry. She stared baffled into Susan’s eyes as the lights began to fade, like phosphorus clouding a pair of still, yellow ponds.

He managed to flick out a mandible in a lame grin before sputtering out “victory…” He was gone before he could finish the phrase.

It wasn’t until hours later, when the Hierarchy had begun to publicly declare the victory at the Weapons Destruction Facility as a major win for occupation forces that Gwen was finally able to cry. Curled up between Kamala and Fulvia on their couch she wept until her eyes were raw and her chest ached.

Susan – Garon – wasn’t a hero. But he’d saved her life. He might not make it into the Taetrun annuals for valor or bravery, but she’d never forget him. At the very least, she consoled herself, she’d keep his memory alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back with an update! Won't lie, I never intended for Susan to have a redemption arc, but I kinda felt like he deserved it? On the home-stretch with this fic now, only a few chapters left!


	12. A Dish Best Served Cold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Description of murder
> 
> Rí – An infantile version of father, the human equivalent being “dada.” Used by very young turian chicks. 
> 
> Subplantat – A slang word for “pervert”

The perpetual haze of ash and stench of ozone hadn’t found its way into the air around Kasatum Fortress. Not yet anyway.

The scent of vegetation in various states of rot from a nearby drainage ditch filled Tassius’s nostrils, and the chirps and clicks of insects floated in the moist dawn air, giving the place a deceiving feeling of tranquility.

Tassius took in a measuring breath, focusing on filling his lungs with air and slowly exhaling out through his nose. He held his eyes shut, blocking out any visual distraction as he concentrated on his morning routine. He had promised Gwen he’d take better care of himself and if that meant taking a few sparse moments to do breathing exercises and to write down something in his personal poetry log, than he owed it to his mate to accomplish these small tasks.

Granted, his attempts at writing the previous night had been less prose and more venom and vitriol aimed at General Partinax, but it was something at least. More than he’d accomplished in over two months since he’d first deployed to Eluria.

It felt releasing somehow, to vent about his manipulative leader. The man with a honeyed voice and pleasing subvocals but whose honesty and veracity seeped out of him with every sugar laced word spoken to the media, like tea leeching out of a bag into hot water.

“General Malolin!” A husky, yet feminine voice called out from behind him. Tassius forced himself to open his eyes slowly, taking in a final inhale of damp air before turning to meet the rose-colored stare of Commander Hafesta.

“The fortress is completely surrounded,” his operations commander informed him, falling instinctively into a parade rest. “Our intelligence confirms that the last of the Facinus holdouts are still there.”

“And Squaron?” He asked, voice purposefully neutral.

“He is not among them.” The older woman replied, a slight tremor to her vocals despite decades of military service schooling her secondary larynx into a tightly controlled instrument.

“I see. Who _is_ presently hiding in there then?” He could hear the bitter malice edging its way into his voice, souring his mood along with his words. His eyes slipped off to the right, toward the ancient fortress with her impregnable walls and kinetic barriers; a functional relic of the Unification Wars left to vex the Hierarchy once again.

“Sir, the last three surviving Facinus leaders are inside. They are still claiming to have hostages and demand a space ship and assured passage through the Mass Relay as a trade.”

A mirthless chuckle left Tassius’s throat as he turned to fully look at the structure harboring the few craven murderers deluded enough to demand anything of him – let alone another ship capable of faster than light speeds.

“If they think I or anyone else in the Hierarchy is going to supply them with a ship, then they’ve been clutching those Prothean relics for far longer than suspected.” He said with a growl lacing his primary voice.

“Sir?” The Commander asked, a question to her subharmonics.

Tassius blew a snort of hot air out through his nose, flexing his armored hands and feeling the steel move with his fingers like a second skin.

“We’re done negotiating with terrorists who refuse to even send out one alleged hostage as a sign of good faith,” he rumbled, lacing his hands behind his back to stand at his full height. “There aren’t any hostages inside Kasatum Fortress. But we need proof of that since Partinax has allowed these lies to become public knowledge.”

Biting back on condescending vocals at the thoughts of Partinax manipulating the situation to the media for his own aggrandizement, Tassius focused on the tactics he’d employ. Strategy had always been his strong suit and the chance to make use of his skills would perhaps help him forget at whose behest he was using them.

 _I serve the Hierarchy, not one lone megalomaniac_. He reminded himself.

“Commander, I want video footage from inside that fortress. Footage that shows there are no hostages.” Tassius tilted his head at the Commander in signal as the pair began to walk back toward the temporary camp that had been erected prior to his return from Vallum.

“Put our best infiltrators on the task. Make use of those duct-crawling drones we received from Hahne-Kedar Armory last week,” he said, eyes trained on the convoy of Jiris hover crafts up ahead. “Equip them so that we can have an accurate scan of the individuals inside the fortress. When we destroy that place, I don’t want anyone saying we killed unarmed hostages.”

“Understood, Sir. I’ll have the drones outfitted immediately.” Came the well-trained response.

“Dismissed.” Tassius answered as he veered away from his second in command to the small prefab being used as a communications bunker.

Head held high, Tassius strode into the bunker, instantly garnering the attention of the two specialists inside. Their faces were bathed in the orange and blue glow of their flashing terminals, and both instantly threw him the claw salute.

“At ease.” He instructed coming to stand behind the young bronze plated specialist. “Get me Captain Vallokius of _The Steadfast_.”

“Yes General.” The man responded as he fought and ultimately failed to keep the nervous warble out of his subvocals.

Whether it was anxiety over having his superior scrutinize him as his talons flew over the glowing symbols and keys, or rumors of Tassius’s biotics and how they flared like novas across his body when enraged, the specialist’s nerves were palpable and hung heavy in the confined space until the holographic image above the terminal had even Tassius himself nearly sighing in relief.

“General Malolin,” Captain Vallokius greeted. “What do you need?”

“Captain,” Tassius said, adding a respectful note to his subvocals. “I want _The Steadfast_ to position itself in orbit above Kasatum Fortress, still within the planet’s atmosphere. But use caution – I want the element of surprise.”

Captain Vallokius flicked out his left mandible in a whisper of a grin. “I can do that, General. What is the time frame?”

“Be in position by 0630 local time.” Tassius responded. “I want _The Steadfast_ prepared to drop a special payload, details of which I shall transmit to you once you’re in position.”

“Very good General. We shall await your commands.” With a nod of his ebony plated head the hologram flickered off.

 _Well done_ , Tassius told the nervous comm specialist who was trying not to glance at him.

The man let out a surprised chirrup at the praise before clamping down on his emotions and giving Tassius a sharp nod.

As he exited the bunker, he heard the man ask his companion “did you hear that?”

Pausing at the outskirts of the camp Tassius allowed himself a sigh. He didn’t think he came off as intimidating – he wasn’t cruel to his subordinates or unnecessarily harsh. But the knowledge that even completely unarmed he could biotically reave them through a wall seemed to haunt their perceptions, and Tassius often found himself doling out complements or reassuring smiles where they weren’t strictly necessary. An onerous task for a battle fatigued leader, but one he’d continue if it meant keeping his men’s trust.

He liked to think he’d earned that now, despite his biotics and the stigma behind them. He wondered idly if his biotics had anything to do with Partinax assigning him this position in the first place. Would his past as a Kabalim and historical distrust have the colonist forces looking to the elder General as their trustworthy leader instead of himself?

His mandibles pinched to his face at thoughts of Partinax and a clandestine, locked transport case currently in route to Palaven. _Unknown antiques_ was the description on the dossier.

 _Antiques that can turn their owners into dreamless kamikazes._ His mind fumed. Spirits forbid Partinax warn anyone about that fact! He only saw another way to consolidate power on Palaven with nefarious Prothean weapons and to build up his own career by being the one to supply this “gift” for the Hierarchy.

Tassius forced himself to relax with another deep sigh. Gwen had tried to reassure him that people could see Partinax was a fraud. No matter what the silver eyed General said or did, those actually fighting the separatists knew who their real leader was and that Tassius was the one risking his life to ensure Facinus was obliterated.

Glancing around to ensure he was alone, Tassius indulged himself in a rare opportunity. Flipping through the audio clips in his omni-tool, he came to the one Gwen had sent him before he’d had to leave several days ago.

“ _Say bye to Rí Brutus_.” Came his mates loving voice, a smile in the tone.

_“Say, I love you Rí!”_

There was a muffled squawk before a shrill _“No!”_

“ _You said it earlier. Say bye bye Rí! Mommy and me love_ _you_.”

There was a humming noise before a soft _“Rí,”_ played into the relative stillness.

 _“That’s right!”_ Gwen was saying. _“We love our Rí, our daddy is the best Rí ever.”_

 _“Rí!”_ A small voice screeched. _“Rí Rí Rí!”_

 _“Yay!”_ Gwen cheered to the chick who’d undoubtedly been sitting in her lap and reaching for her hair. _“You’re so smart lamb chop! We love our Rí so much.”_

_“Rí!”_

_“Take care of yourself Tass. Remember Brutus and I love you. You make our family complete.”_

There was a smacking sound of Gwen blowing him a kiss. A sound Brutus attempted to emulate before making an impish chirp and the audio cut out, leaving Tassius back in a muddy field with the sounds of men and machines in the near distance.

A phantom of a smile ghosted across his face as he stared at his now silent tool. He’d played their message at least a dozen times. Whenever the mantel of command began to feel suffocating, he’d think of his beautiful mate and child and suddenly it was like fresh air had been breathed into him.

They were both safe in Vallum at least.

He hesitated, hand hovering above his tool before typing out a series of orders. The neighborhood where their temporary housing was located was safe – it was regularly patrolled by military police – but the Weapons Destruction Facility had no such security measures in place.

Located in a remote part of the city, access was the facility’s primary defense. Yet, the separatists were becoming desperate. He could hear it in the barked demands from those inside the fortress, and from the near hysterical proclamations made by the ones they took as prisoners.

It was strategically foolish to have only the facility staff there to defend it should Facinus or one of the more brazen mercenary gangs try to steal back weapons. As he ordered an infantry platoon to take up a full security detail at the facility, he privately admitted to himself that security was only a small fraction of the logic behind the command.

And when he ordered an increased police presence around Fulvia and Kamala’s residence, where the chick spent the afternoons, he didn’t even try to delude himself into thinking that there was an objective rational. 

Using your position to receive special treatment was unfitting for a General of his tier. But he’d do it again if it meant keeping what remained of his family safe. If he accomplished nothing else, he’d ensure his family were secure on their home world.

**********

They had moved like an army of insects; all born of one mind and in total synchronization. The prefabs had been torn down and all equipment and gear relocated several miles away. His forces and even the reserve troops he had stationed further back in the pampas had all been issued hearing protection and ventilation masks once the drone footage had reaffirmed his suspicions. 

Using an ultrasonic device similar to ground-penetrating radar, the drones had been able to thoroughly scan and locate all individuals inside the ancient fortress. Tassius and his analysts had then deduced from positioning and audio data that none were hostages, as he’d already surmised.

Armed with this surveillance, he’d begrudgingly sought and received Partinax’s blessing to carry out his plan.

At 0721 local time, _The Steadfast_ dropped a 6-ton thermobaric bomb onto the historical fortress with a parachute, slowing its descent so that it would not trigger the kinetic barriers.

The idea had come to him while he was meditating several evenings ago, focusing on creating miniature barriers with his biotics. Nothing too strong, but enough to stretch a now seldom used muscle and keep it primed. Has he had set up small, dome shaped barriers around the twigs and stones laying beneath the tree he was sitting under, a light breeze had rustled the branches and knocked a small scattering of leaves loose. Floating lethargically, they easily sank through his weak barriers, not strong enough to trigger his abilities to flare and repel them.

When the bomb alighted on Kasatum Fortress, however, the resulting cacophony of noise sounded like a thousand volcanoes erupting at once – the earth shook, and his teeth clattered inside his skull as he squinted behind his helmet at the mushroom cloud of black smoke blooming in the morning sky.

The dust had followed after the bell of the mushroom had expanded outward, blotting out the gentle rays of new sunlight. It choked the once pastel atmosphere and swirled around him in a filthy tornado, a constant presence for nearly three hours after the fact.

When the smoke had cleared, and he could see more than two feet in front of him at a glance, Tassius and a squad of handpicked soldiers made their way back through the now soot and debris strewn fields that surrounded the fortress.

The long, yellow grass was pushed backwards from the force of the bomb and was coated in ash, like a sinister snowfall from the scorching heavens.

Somehow, when they reached their destination, Tassius was relieved to see that portions of the hardened building were still standing. Much like the planet itself, the turian people built things to endure. Though as far as the Facinus holdouts were concerned, the fortress might as well have been made of cardboard.

The bomb had sucked all the oxygen out of the immediate area before vaporizing it. His official report to the Hierarchy would state that the separatist leaders were “presumed dead,” but that was only because the interior of the fortress was mutilated beyond recognition, along with anything that may have once breathed air or had a pulse.

Despite his victory, there was still a discomforting, churning sensation in his gizzard. He had initially chalked it up to anxiety, but when the feeling persisted even hours later as he sat in his personal Jiris, forefinger and thumb pinching the bridge of his nose, he had to acknowledge that it was something else.

It seemed fitting that the cagey Vallum blast pilot had been absent from the fortress. It would have been too easy a death for the cur who’d single-handedly caused the annihilation and agony of thousands.

Vamire Squaron wasn’t technically in the Facinus leadership, but as the only known participant capable of weaponizing the FTL plotters, as far as Tassius was concerned, Squaron was the worst of the anarchist filth.

He felt his biotics spark along his arms but didn’t bother opening his eyes. Squaron was probably responsible for the Prothean weapons in Madra, too. Purchasing and illegally importing tech and parts from the Citadel Blue Suns and their contemptuous leader Arc –

“General?” A surprisingly close voice asked.

Jolted from his darkening thoughts, Tassius opened his eyes, mood still sanguine.

“Yes?” He replied, pushing down his irritated subvocals.

“General, I thought you would want to know immediately. We have a lead on Squaron,” Commander Hafesta said, an air of excitement in her taut posture. “Several soldiers have reported seeing a man matching his description in the burned-out portions of Madra, near the border with Spaedar.”

He was out of his vehicle and ordering a full sweep of the city with house-to-house searches before fully realizing that the commands he heard were emanating from his own mouth. He wouldn’t lose the murderous pilot. Not again.

The two-hour ride back to Madra was one thick with unspoken words and the steady hum of the hovercraft. His orders were to take Squaron dead or alive – though dead was preferable. Separatists with the type of skill set Squaron had were a liability, and one he and few others were interested in keeping around.

Humans or Salarians would have wanted to take him alive, probably. Examine his psychology, attempt to ascertain why he made the choices he did. But in the end, Squaron’s choices were his own and like all good turians, he could die for his cause.

Tassius’s boots squelched in the deep mud of the city streets, asphalt and cobblestone blown away when colonist forces first took Madra. The sky was a study in different shades of gray and the scent of wet wood and long burnt things permeated the air.

Tassius stalked through the damp ruins of the city like a starved predator after reclusive prey. Every shadow cast, every creak of board or shift of gravel had his head twisting and heart racing. But every time it was for naught.

He’d begun to flag after several hours, limbs feeling heavy and mind frazzled from the constant state of alertness when a particularly loud crack from a blackened building drew his attention.

Enveloping himself in a biotic barrier, he burst through the fragments of a wooden door and was greeted with a hail of bullets. Channeling his dark energy, he threw the overturned couch his would-be assassin was crouched behind into the far wall before charging his stunned prey.

Slamming the helmeted rebel solider into the wall with enough force to break through the brittle, surrounding stucco, Tassius held him in a stasis. Adversary subdued, he moved to pull off the man’s helmet, a vicious snarl ripping from his throat at the chartreuse eyes and Spaedar colony markings he unveiled.

 Squaron had seen better days. His fawn colored hide was blotchy and clung greedily to his plates, as though it were in the process of melting off his body. Missing though were any of the gears, tubes, or wires of the more infected separatists. The pilot’s eyes were a defiant shade of green, lacking the unnatural, glassy blue sheen of those who’d been sickened by the Prothean weapons.

“Your mind is your own, is it?” He heard himself say over the roar of blood in his aural canal. “Fitting you’d be immune to the poison those artifacts have spewed upon your brethren.”

“Fuck yourself Malolin!” Squaron yelled with more force than his emaciated body looked capable of mustering. “You and the rest of those human appeasing _subplantats_ have doomed our planet and people to nothing more than the sniveling patsies of Palaven! But you don’t care about that, do you?”

Squaron’s mandibles flared out in a vicious display of contempt. “I’ve heard about you, General.” The title was said with an exaggerated sneer. “You have your cock buried in that filthy human whore you “bonded” with too deeply to see what that disgusting pyjack race is really doing! Her cunt has squeezed the sense from your brain, but that bitch and whatever abomination you’d plant in her womb will – ”

His biotics lanced down his arm and into the other man’s chest where his fist had socked him. The world went blue as snaps of pulsing fire shot into the convulsing body of the monster who’d dared threaten Gwen and their future Cheirs.

His other hand curled into a fist as he concentrated his energy on the pale appendage beneath the armor – the ghost of what was once a heart but had been drained of empathy and honor when its owner decided to murder innocent citizens.

Time stretched on in an endless line until his body screamed at him to rest. Sagging backward, Tassius pulled back on his abilities. Squaron fell to the ground in a lifeless heap with a thud of armor on the exposed metal struts of the pocked floor. Small, delicate tendrils of charcoal colored smoke seeped out of the space between Squaron’s neck and his armor before dissipating into the heavy air.

A faint beeping sound yanked Tassius from his shell-shocked position leaning against the shattered couch. With a gasp, he bolted for the doorway, shrouding himself in a barrier as the explosion ripped through the former office building.

Splintered wood and nails bore down over him in a wave of fiery shrapnel, bouncing off his shields as he dove for cover behind another building. After seconds that seemed like hours, Tassius peered around his cover at the charred and smoking heap where his foe was now buried.

Death by suicide was common in the Hierarchy. An honorable way to atone for your sins and keep the blame insulated. Using a bomb to accomplish this and to take others with you was something else altogether.

  _Let someone else find him_. He decided. _Let his final act be banal, martyrdom is an honor he’ll never deserve_.

Rising to his feet, Tassius spared a glance at the rubble that was Squaron’s tomb before turning his back on the man who had already cost him too much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can officially see the end in sight for this series! Hopefully people thought Tassius's revenge was just - I couldn't see him letting Squaron live after everything and given the turian mentality on dangerous anarchists.


	13. The Phoenix

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Parvus – Palaveni word for “tiny one” or “lovely small thing,” used often for babies.
> 
> Gantu – An armored, pungent creature, native to Taetrus which fills a similar ecological niche to that of the American Opossum. 
> 
> Flos – A type of beautiful, silver flower native to Palaven.
> 
> Marcas Dignus – Translates to “kinship marks” and is a type of tattoo pattern used by turians to proclaim their familial relationships; i.e. mates represented by two solid lines running along the keel and children or progeny as arrows. The color can vary though the design remains the same.

The house looked the way nails on a chalkboard sound. Gwen cringed as she took in the sight of splintered beams, fragmented chunks of molding, and exposed pipe and steel.

The carcass of Tassius’ childhood home stood out like a shadow against the bright backdrop of the early afternoon sun and Gwen found her eyes locked on the place of pitch and ruin. _Maybe it was a mistake coming back here,_ she thought. But her therapist had recommended she come and parse out her emotions. “It’s a necessary part of mental and emotional recovery,” the erudite asari doctor had said during their last session.

At least she wasn’t alone.

Behind her, the sound of feet crunching loudly on gravel and debris announced Kamala’s approach. The plump asari came to stand next to Gwen, hands akimbo on their hips as they contemplated the destruction.

“Held up better than I would have thought,” Kamala said eventually. “The bones of the building are still here at least.” Kamala angled their head to catch Gwen’s attention. “Are you and Tassius going to rebuild?”

Gwen’s mouth tightened into a thin line as she continued to stare at the rubble. “I don’t know,” she said, turning to look at her friend. “That’d be up to Tassius. Neither of us have a desire to reopen a bed and breakfast though.”

Kamala used the spade of their hand to shield their eyes from the glare of the Taetrun sun as they regarded the place. “Well, there’s still things you can use. Even if you don’t rebuild, you can include memories from the past into something new.”

Gwen quirked an eyebrow. Kamala was a romantic, but not of the sentimental variety. They liked grand gestures of adoration but didn’t tend to hold onto mementos.

The asari only shrugged. “Live as long as I have, and you learn what to hang on to and what to let go.”

“Down. Down pease? Down.” Brutus could be heard entreating Fulvia from further up the street.

“Sorry _parvus_ but you can’t crawl here, there’s too many sharp things to step on,” Fulvia told the hopeful chick.

Brutus squawked at the denial and began squirming in Fulvia’s arms, too large now for a cowl, and attempted to wrestle himself free and to the ground.

Fulvia made a series of subvocal reprimands in response. Brutus quit flailing but took to screeching and keening instead.

“Lamb Chop listen to auntie Fulvia,” Gwen said as she trotted over to the pair, taking her disappointed child. His downy feathering had begun to molt, leaving the chick with stray tufts of down that covered his plates in uneven patches. The effect was endearing, though it signified her son was growing up faster than she would have imagined.

Brutus sniffed, staring at her with large eyes the color of a robin’s egg. “Down?” He asked.

“How about mommy carries you,” Gwen answered as she and her friends began to circle around the front of the house.

Fulvia fell in line to join her, albeit with a pronounced limp. Gwen slowed her gait as Kamala went to walk next to their wife in case Fulvia fell or needed help. The turian woman chuckled, taking Kamala by the arm.

 How Fulvia managed to remain so cheerful was beyond Gwen. Many of her family members had lived in the Elurian city of Iratiana, which had been eviscerated during the airstrikes early in the war. From what Gwen had been made to understand, many of these family members were elderly, and had not survived their homes, hospitals, and grocery stores collapsing on them.

General Partinax’s statement to the press about the civilian casualties had been difficult to understand for a human. He had said, “there is no such thing as a turian civilian.” The thought irked her. Were senior citizens and children not civilians? They had no military training, or else were decades removed from it and plagued with physical ailments.

“Something on your mind?” Hearing Kamala’s question, Gwen realized she’d stopped walking.

“Just…” Gwen glanced at Fulvia before deciding to broach the subject regardless. “Turians view civilian casualties so differently than humans.” She shook her head, hoisting Brutus higher up on her hip. “Using mass accelerators on targets in heavily populated city centers, execution squads –”

“The hastatim aren’t execution squads,” Fulvia interjected. “Not like you’re thinking.”

“They’re soldiers that go house to house killing people…” Gwen said uncertainly. “I know Tassius was reluctant to deploy them, but the resistance in Spaedar after the aerial campaign left him no choice, he said.” Tassius didn’t talk much about his warfare tactics unless prompted, but the hastatim had seemed to be a sensitive topic, even for him.

“The hastatim suffer from an image problem,” Fulvia agreed as she limped over to Gwen and Brutus. “But without them, victory could never be assured. Not when most turian households own firearms and have training on how to use them.”

 “Their primary function is to get citizens to the safe camps,” Kamala added.

Gwen shook her head again. “There was something similar to the hastatim in Earth’s not so distant past.” She said. “They were supposedly a police force during one of humanity’s more notable wars, but their appearance on your doorstep was a death sentence.”

Images of her father’s face when she’d mentioned the hastatim plagued her mind. She’d given him the same explanation, that these weren’t actually murder squads but peace keepers. _“If you’d asked the S.S. in WWII what their function was, they would have said the same thing.”_ Her father had replied, eyes freezing over into a hard and piercing stare. _“It doesn’t matter what the name is, the result is always the same.”_

Gwen suspected that Hahne-Kedar would put something in their next Hierarchy contract about not supplying arms and munitions to the hastatim. For all the good that’d do.

“Turians are militaristic,” Kamala said, interrupting Gwen’s train of thought. “It’s hard for humans – or asari – to really understand killing entire families. But the end result is peace. The hastatim might never have worked for the Alliance or Matriarchy, but it works for the Hierarchy.”

“A yuck!” Brutus suddenly yelled far too close to Gwen’s ear. “Yuck! No yuck!”

Gwen turned her head in the direction her excited child was pointing. Near the destroyed gate that once led to Romulus’s garden, something was moving in the vegetation.

Her brow furrowed as she cautiously walked closer, grateful she’d left Fizzgig in the skycar. A small, armored head and pig-like snout appeared from among the russet and silver leaves, accompanied by a familiar, foul odor.

“I don’t believe it!” Gwen exclaimed as the _Gantu_ – Spaghetti she’d once called it – waddled out of the bush it had been hiding in and further into the garden.

“Is that a _Gantu_?” Fulvia asked as she and Kamala walked over to see what had drawn Gwen’s attention. “I’ve never seen one in the wild before.”

“Goddess it smells atrocious,” Kamala said waving a hand in front of their scrunched-up nose.

Gwen found herself grinning as Spaghetti set about digging up a large _flos_ flower in search of its bulb.

“I can’t believe it survived,” she said. “I thought it’d been crushed.”

“I think you mean _she,_ ” Fulvia corrected, pointing to where the bush the _Gantu_ had appeared from was now rustling. Three miniature but no less pungent _Gantus_ bounced out of the leaves and toward their mother, full of unbridled enthusiasm and energy.

“They’re kind of cute for being so smelly,” Kamala commented as they kneeled down to get a closer look, finger and thumb pinching their nostrils shut.

The small _Gantu_ family ignored their audience as they went about the mundane tasks of eating, snuffling, and digging.

Struck by a thought, Gwen wordlessly handed Brutus to Kamala as the chick continued to stare at the unfamiliar animals. Bending down, she pulled a large _flos_ bulb out of the pile of dirt Spaghetti had unearthed.

Romulus had loved his flowers like his own children. He’d spent years selectively pollinating _flos_ flowers to get the largest, brightest blooms possible, and he had been immensely proud of his results. He liked to give bouquets of them to Tassius’s mother – only when he thought others weren’t watching – and Gwen had once heard him tell Cornelia with purring subvocals that he felt bad for the flowers since they appeared dim next to her radiance.

She smiled down at the slumbering bulb. Wherever she and Tassius ended up living, they could have a reminder of his parents. Something from the past to breathe life into the future.

From off to her right, the _Gantu_ squabs snorted as they frolicked in the dust.

********** 

There was still steam lingering in the air as Tassius sat on the metal bench in the showers of _The Steadfast._ His plates and hide had long since dried.

By all accounts, he was a hero – General Partinax had declared the end of major combat operations in the Diluvian Wildlands earlier that morning. While ninety percent of the colonialist fighting force were scheduled to remain in-country until the end of the year to provide security, Tassius was returning to Vallum: the victorious General.

But victory was a hallow thing. How couldn’t it be when reconstruction would take years, if not decades to accomplish? His mind flashed to the conversation he’d had with Commander Hafesta prior to boarding _The Steadfast_. There were over 16,000 orphans currently living in cramped halfway houses on Eluria, and feral animals, formerly pets, were roaming the countryside in such numbers that Tassius had been forced to order their extermination. People would show up to the crematoriums, faces pinched in uncertainty, only to break into keens when the body of a beloved family pet was recognized.

He slumped under the weight of triumph, eyes staring unblinking at the floor. Some human reporters had referred to him as a phoenix rising from the ashes of Eluria. But he was not some mythical creature born anew from the flames; he was a singed one.

Meanwhile Partinax had his victory and glory, feeding the turian people exaggerations and truths in turn; whichever served to make the man look best at any given moment. He had also broken the law by sending Prothean weapons to Palaven and releasing footage of himself killing the Facinus leader to Gwen.

Tassius’s teeth flashed in the ghost of a snarl. There was nothing he could do about the General’s actions. He was a conquering hero rendered useless in the face of a real monster.

The door to the showers opened with a soft _whoosh_ and an uneven gait made its way toward the water nozzle.

“General Malolin,” Captain Vallokius greeted with slight surprise in his subharmonics. “I thought you’d already returned to your quarters.”

Tassius glanced up to his former superior, noting the intricate yellow tattoos that ran along the Captain’s chest, arm, and leg plates. The two thick lines that ran parallel to his keel with an arrow in the middle were easily recognizable as _marcas dignus_ symbolizing the wearers’ family members.

The patterns on his shins, however, were artistic in nature and distorted by cracks and scaring. Tassius wondered why he hadn’t noticed them before, but then couldn’t recall ever seeing the Captain out of armor or leggings.

“Old injury,” Captain Vallokius said, noticing where Tassius was looking. “A reminder that playing ‘lone varren’ comes with consequences.” He shifted his weight to relieve whatever aches his legs were causing him. “Only bothers me if I’ve been standing in place for too long. Always sends Tosca into a flurry of concern,” he said more to himself, mandibles flaring into a fond smile.

Tassius returned his gaze to the floor. “I apologize, Captain. I’m done with the showers.” He rose to his feet, pausing at the Captain’s subvocal question.

_What’s bothering you, Tassius?_

Tassius couldn’t bring himself to look the Captain in the eye but decided against holding in his frustration. “For being the victorious warrior returning home, I feel like I’ve failed my people,” he admitted into the humid air of the washroom.

“Why do you feel that?” The Captain questioned.

Tassius hesitated. Disparaging General Partinax to Captain Vallokius wouldn’t fix anything. But… “A superior,” he said carefully, turning to face the Captain, “has committed crimes and engaged in activities unfitting for his station.”

“What types of crimes?” The Captain asked, anger bubbling in his subvocals like stew over a hot burner.

“Crimes that could endanger the lives of countless people,” Tassius growled thinking about unwitting scientists handling the Prothean weapons. Spirits forbid they went on display somewhere, allowing them to infect unsuspecting museum patrons.

“How high ranking is this superior?” The Captain asked suspiciously.

“One of the highest,” Tassius answered hands clenching into fists at his side.

“I see.” The Captain said, head tilting to the side in thought. “Does this superior have a superior?”

Tassius nodded. “I doubt their direct superior would do anything though.” His thoughts strayed to how Primarch Valen avoided conflict at all costs, even if it was merely a salarian reporter inquiring whether weaponized plotters represented a new type of warfare. He shook his head minutely.

“Does Fedorian know?” True to form, Captain Vallokius cut to the heart of the issue.

“He does not,” Tassius responded. “But I don’t know how to inform him without opening myself and my family up to retribution.”

Partinax would retaliate too if given a target. Should the General’s underhanded dealings come to light, they would shatter the man’s political aspirations and possibly even earn him a demotion. He’d seek to destroy Tassius’ career at a minimum.

“It’s at times like these,” the Captain’s gaze leveled on Tassius, a knowing glint to his eyes. “That the old human saying, ‘it’s good to have friends in high places’ carries real wisdom.”

Tassius felt his brow plates lower in confusion as the Captain turned to activate the shower.

“Your friend, Tarquin Victus,” the Captain said lifting his face into the spray of water. “How is his family doing?”

Tassius’s eyes shot wide. General Adrien Victus was the man the Hierarchy called upon whenever anarchy reared its ugly head with real conviction. The Civil War on Taetrus had been no exception and the famed leader had managed to take out an entire Separatist faction without a single casualty from his own soldiers.

His reputation among other Generals was decidedly mixed. While his service record was impressive, many in the military took issue with the ethics of his tactics – not because they were underhanded, but because they were unorthodox.

He’d heard General Timus Aurelos refer to Victus’ tactics as being ‘very human’ in their application, as though this were something distasteful. But unorthodox or not, these tactics tended to work for Victus, and the Hierarchy was usually willing to turn a blind eye to his unusual strategies when it garnered the results everyone wanted.

“Thank you for listening, Captain.” Tassius said as he hurried to pull on his under armor.

“The comm room is empty!” The Captain called back as he began to scrub at his cowl.

Tassius strode from the showers with a purpose, stopping in his quarters only long enough to change into his officer’s light armor. It was a deep blue, so dark it appeared black under most lights with gold embellishments. Far too gaudy for a battlefield, but perfect to wordlessly convey the urgency of a vid call.

The communications room was vacant just as the Captain had said and Tassius immediately walked up to the glowing console. His hand hesitated within the orange halo for just a moment before he connected the transmission. While waiting, he couldn’t help the way his feet fidgeted nervously or how his hands opened and closed at his sides. He was grateful no one else was around to see.

After a few moments, the holographic image of General Victus materialized. “General Malolin,” came the deep, almost amused greeting. The older man’s amber eyes were warm with familiarity as they swept across Tassius’ form, fringe to talons. Yet, after taking in the formality of his armor and the severity of his posture, Victus’ gaze hardened. “I would say it’s nice to see you, but the way you’re staring at me leads me to assume this isn’t a social call. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Tassius exhaled the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “General Victus,” he began, memories of meeting the man off duty on Palaven trickling through his mind. “I need to speak with you privately about a matter of great import.”

General Victus glanced off to his left before returning his focus on Tassius. “I’m alone,” he confirmed. “Speak freely.”

“It’s about General Partinax,” Tassius said biting back uneasy vocals. “He has… sent something to Palaven that poses a monumental risk to the health, safety, and welfare of the turian people.”

General Victus stared at him unblinking, his face as stoic and unmoving as a statue.

“While in Madra,” Tassius continued, “my troops came across a workshop where Vamire Squaron had been building weaponized plotters. But that was not all they found. Among the familiar components and modern tech were Prothean relics. At least, that’s what they look like upon first glance.”

The older General maintained his silence, attention focused on Tassius. After a moment he prompted, “continue.” There was a hint of anger behind the simple word – frustration.

Bolstered, Tassius ventured, “You don’t seem surprised, General.”

“That’s because I’m not,” Victus replied, his expression still impassive. “Continue,” he repeated.

Courage renewed that he wasn’t alone in his distrust of the flashy General, Tassius straightened his posture and laid out the nature of the Prothean weapons, what he’d seen them do to enemy combatants who’d been exposed for extended periods of time, and how Partinax had buried this information and shipped the weapons to Cipritine without any warning or fanfare.

“I have reached an impasse,” Tassius concluded. “To expose his actions to Primarch Fedorian and endanger the image and rank Partinax has cultivated for himself will assuredly result in my own ruination and that of my family as well.”

General Victus lowered his head slightly. Tassius watched as the amber tones of his eyes flashed and deepened with thought, like whiskey being decanted before finally being served over a single ice cube in an expensive glass.

 “Nicander Partinax always was more show than substance,” Victus said after a moment, head still bowed and mandibles flared in a wry smile. When he lifted his gaze back to Tassius the humor had fled his face. “You’re not wrong in your assessment General Malolin, he will retaliate should word of his actions come from the mouths of turians.”

Tassius rumbled in confusion at the statement.

Victus canted his head to the side. “Do you know how I achieved my victory over the Separatist faction in Spaedar?”

“You held your forces back to allow a salarian spy ring and the Separatists to wear each other down before attacking.” Tassius answered, having read the reports with great interest.

“The salarians aren’t stupid,” Victus began, sparks snapping in his auburn irises as he spoke. “They tend to leave behind monitoring equipment even after capture, on the off chance that their captors are complacent enough not to thoroughly search their enclaves and discover it.”

“You found it, of course,” Tassius prompted trying to follow the proverbial trail of bread crumbs the older General was leaving for him.

“Of course,” Victus affirmed. “But it would be foolhardy to destroy advanced salarian spy tech without first tracing it back to its source and recipient. In this case, Councilor Valern.”

Tassius managed to bite back his surprised subvocals, though he was sure the shock was clear in his features. “You’d relay this information to the Salarian Councilor? On their own equipment?”

Victus flicked out a mandible in a subdued smirk. “The transmission would have to be reported to Taetrun command and Primarch Fedorian’s military office. It contains damning information about one of their highest Generals after all.”

“I…” Tassius found himself at a rare loss for words. Saying ‘thank you’ somehow would never be enough.

“You’re a good leader, General Malolin. You value your soldiers and represent the best the Hierarchy has to offer. I look forward to seeing your future successes.” With a polite bow, Victus ended the call and Tassius was left simultaneously stunned and elated, alone in the softly buzzing air of the comm room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Colossal thank-you to S0me_Writer for reviewing this chapter and helping me develop Victus' voice and character. If you haven't read her fanfic yet, I cannot recommend it highly enough.


	14. At Peace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spiritus Auream -- A spirit of Palaven’s sun, Trebia. While not personified like human spirits with a physical body, these spirits are said to be made of pure, golden light, and are immensely powerful and revered.
> 
> Flos – A type of beautiful, silver flower native to Palaven.
> 
> Dea – A word taken from the asari, loosely translates to Goddess.

There was something about the verdant fields and gardens of Eden Prime that put Tassius instantly at ease. No sooner had his shuttle landed outside the family arcology, with its triangular shape that blended seamlessly into the landscape of gently rolling hills and lakes, then Tassius felt as though the weight of his command were suddenly lifted.

Stepping outside, he was greeted to the sounds of bird calls, insects and the smell of lace-in-lilac flowers in full bloom. Humans often referred to the planet as a paradise, and as a gentle, summer breeze rustled the leaves in the nearby orchard, Tassius closed his eyes, basking in the tranquility of home.

Nearly eight galactic years after the Reapers’ demise, and with the wealth and influence of the Kedar family’s Spiritus Sol Armory, Eden Prime truly was a paradise once more. The farms were rebuilt, the monorail repaired, and the newly constructed space station especially designed for the cargo shipments of arms and munitions Spiritus Sol shipped to the Hierarchy, Alliance, and Council had already begun attracting vast waves of settlers from all different races.

“Dad’s home!” A young, duel toned voice cried.

Tassius turned to see Brutus charging toward him, still clad in his clawball uniform and barefoot. Struggling valiantly to keep pace with his older brother, little Caius trotted after him, exotic, golden plates gleaming in the afternoon sun.

Tassius flared his mandibles out in a broad grin, kneeling and opening his arms wide for a human style hug. His sons barreled into him with excited, chirping subvocals, both trying to tell him something different at once: Brutus’s team had won their game this morning, Caius went with uncle Remy to the stable and got to pet a new foal, Mom missed him and was on her way outside.

Tassius rumbled in contentment, no longer bound by professionalism and able to freely express his emotions. “Where is mom?” He asked the boys as he stood up.

“Tass!” Gwen appeared from the doorway, long hair dancing in the breeze like sunbeams, their youngest child, Eva, held securely on her hip as she hurried over.

 _My Spiritus Auream._ He purred, nuzzling his brow with Gwen’s before dipping his head to press his mouth against hers in a heated kiss.

“Ewww!”

“Gross dad!”

Tassius and Gwen pulled apart, as Tassius glanced down at his sons. Brutus had his arms crossed with a perturbed expression on his face, while four-year-old Caius had already managed to find a pointed stick somewhere and was swinging it around like a weapon. Tassius shook his head as he removed the offending item from Caius’s tiny hand. His youngest son might be a Cheir, but Tassius swore there was more of Gwen’s genetics in the child than just the markers that gave him plates the same hue of brilliant gold as his mother’s hair.

“Alright, everyone inside,” Gwen announced, handing an excited Eva over to Tassius. His human Cheir, ruby eyed, blonde haired Evangeline, squealed and pulled on his mandibles, a constant stream of “daddy daddy daddy!” pouring from her small lips.

Cheirs had always been something both he and Gwen wanted. But, after the destruction of the Reapers, the galaxy was in such a state of chaos and disarray that they hadn’t been sure if any Council sanctioned facilities had survived. Four years later though, as they were just settling into life on Eden Prime, they’d been informed that a facility on Sur’Kesh was reinitiating their Cheir program.

Caius was one of the first Cheirs born in the reopened facility. He’d been gestated in an artificial womb – surrogates being difficult to come by after the great war – and his birth had been attended by nearly all surviving members of the Malolin-Kedar family. His mate had quietly grieved that her mother would never know their beautiful child, a sentiment Tassius shared regarding his own parents.

Perhaps, in part, it was a desire to fill the now strangely empty galaxy with life that had led to Tassius and Gwen deciding to have a third child.

Eva had followed Caius’s birth two years later, though Gwen had been able to carry the infant herself after the invitro procedure. Tassius purred to his daughter, giving her tender nuzzles as his family bounded up the stairs and into the main living area of their home.

“Hot Plates!” Remy shrieked, prancing over to him, followed closely by two enthusiastic Pomeranians. Tassius grunted in mild annoyance but allowed his brother-in-law to give him a one-armed hug.

“You embarrass everyone in the family when you call me that,” Tassius informed him.

“ _I_ embarrass the family?” Remy scoffed, pulling back to cross his arms. “ _I’m_ not the one who gave a news interview topless, in the turian equivalent of a kilt and Ugg boots.”

Tassius sighed, turning around to end the conversation. The news interview had admittedly not been his finest moment; he’d barely woken up to take the dogs outside and had been ambushed by the media wanting his opinion on Admiral Shepard’s announcement that she would be retiring from the Alliance to live with her mate, former Reaper Advisor Garrus Vakarian, on the newly rebuilt Citadel.

If anyone in this damn galaxy deserved a retirement it was Shepard. She’d died once and then nearly again to save all sentient life as they knew it. She and Vakarian ought to enjoy a soft epilogue somewhere; truly be allowed peace and to decide their futures for themselves.

His opinion had been eloquent, thoughtful, insightful even. Of course, nobody cared about that and his choice of outfit had been the cause of great amusement both on Eden Prime and abroad. Gwen had been subtly suggesting ever since that he get a stylist. He sighed as he set Eva down to wobble over to her cousins on chubby toddler legs.

The rest of the afternoon was filled with friends and family, both old and new. Remy and his wife, Gwen’s childhood friend Rachael, stayed until the early evening with their twin daughters. Scarlet, Aurelius and their “herd” as Gwen called their six children, dropped by for a few hours to visit, and Sergei, his father in-law, came over for family dinner and to discuss Brutus’s clawball prowess with the type of zealous enthusiasm only a proud grandfather could possess. 

Tassius enjoyed seeing everyone again after being away for nearly two weeks on assignment for Primarch Victus, but when the light began to dim, and the night air become heavy with the songs of nocturnal creatures, he was grateful to relax on the large sofa in the game room with only his mate and children huddled next to him. This was what he’d fought for, after all.

By pure happenstance, the Reapers had struck while he, Gwen and Brutus were visiting Gwen’s family on Earth. Ironically, he’d wanted a reprieve from the destruction of Taetrus; an overdue vacation. When Earth went dark, he’d rallied the people of the Hawaiian Islands. The Hahne-Kedar Armory supplied them with arms and munitions to fight off the husks, brutes, and marauders that perpetually washed ashore. Isolation from the mainland had fortunately meant no Capital Ships had landed, but the fighting had been vicious none-the-less.

When the fires had all burnt out and the exhausted human, asari, turian, and salarian tourists he’d co-opted into soldiers could lay down their weapons and cheer with jubilant excitement at victory, he had rushed to Gwen and kissed her as though his life depended on it, not caring if anyone saw.

Honolulu had never been the same, after that – everywhere Gwen turned she saw ghosts. Her mother had been on Arcturus Station attending parliament when the Reapers struck. There weren’t even ashes left to spread, a fact that affected the entire Kedar family. Taetrus, his own homeworld, had been obliterated by the Reapers when they'd first entered Hierarchy space. No buildings in Vallum or even the Wildlands had endured the onslaught.

He and Gwen had agreed, for Brutus’s sake and their own, that they wanted a fresh start. Somewhere where the scars and gashes left by the Reapers were already fading. Eden Prime, still lush and green after the machines went silent had been an easy decision. Gwen’s remaining family – Remy and her father – had joined them in relocating and creating the Spiritus Sol Armory.

It was almost amusing, Tassius thought as he helped Gwen get the children ready for bed, how insignificant and petty his former problems seemed now. Before the Reapers, he’d been nervous that General Partinax would seek revenge on him somehow. News of malignant Prothean weapons on Palaven and the former General surreptitiously recording his duel with the Facinus leader to release it on the extranet had seen Partinax stripped of his title and power.

Any fears Tassius had about retribution were ended when the Reapers attacked Palaven. From all accounts, his former superior hadn’t survived the invasion, and General Victus had been made Primarch.

The Reapers were a constant thing; always lurking at the back of his mind and memories. But, as he sat reading Eva and Caius each a bedtime story and then helped Brutus put away his collector books full of baseball and clawball cards, Tassius allowed himself to focus on the good and pure still left in the universe.

The children tucked into their beds, and finally alone, Tassius and Gwen reached for each other. Gwen’s skin held a faint glow from the summer sun, and while cooler than him, she was warm and welcoming and always home.

He traced teasing fingers along her breasts and over the stiff peaks of her nipples, recommitting the topography of her body to memory. Gwen ran a finger along his parted seam, dipping it inside and rubbing insistently against the head of his cock until he fully emerged.

“Fuck, Tass, I missed you so much,” she breathed against the hide of his neck.

“Not as much as I’ve missed you,” he assured her over rolling subharmonics. “Spirits, Gwen,” he breathed, the sweet, musky scent of her arousal filling his nostrils. He rocked against her, bringing the tip of his length to rest just inside her soft, wet folds.

Gwen squeezed his unplated waist, lifting her hips to grind against him with a heady moan. “Oh God, I want you Tass –”

He moved to straddle her, gripping her under both knees to settle them on his hip spurs before she’d finished her sentence. Gwen let out a breathless laugh, biting her lower lip in anticipation as he aligned himself with her center and slowly, smoothly, pushed inside the hot, tight embrace of his perfect mate.

He held still for a moment, arms quivering with restraint as he adjusted to the feel of her around him, and she to his size. When she rocked against him with a curse, he slowly pulled out of her, before pushing back in, angling his hips so the ridges of his cock rubbed against her with each thrust.

“God, Tassius, please!” Gwen sobbed, hands coming up to rub and pluck at her nipples, amber eyes squeezed shut in torturous bliss.

Tassius raised up onto one knee, focusing his biotics to lift Gwen slightly off the bed and position her against him. Gripping her hips, he fucked her hard and deep, as Gwen arched her upper back and screamed for more.

 _Cum for me, love!_ he implored her subvocally. _Cum on me!_

Gwen bit her lip as her body rolled against him in desperate undulations, her inner walls squeezing him in a sodden embrace until he was crying out his own release, pressing into her as his knot swelled, locking them together.

He pulled back on his biotics, the energy rippling off him, knocking against wooden dressers and closet doors in blue waves. Using what little strength he had left in his limp body, he moved to lean against the cushioned bed frame, bringing Gwen to sit in his lap. She collapsed against his chest, mindful of his keel, breath coming out in hot pants.

“Good thing the kids are two floors above us,” Gwen finally chuckled, breathing almost back to normal.

Tassius hummed in agreement, reaching a hand up to trace a blunted talon along her faded bondmark. Gwen had suggested redoing them on their next couples’ vacation. They planned to visit Palaven – partly for Spiritus Sol business, partly to see Tiberius and Lily – and having that much alone time in a hotel room was the perfect opportunity to reaffirm their vows.

“Write any new poems while you were away?” Gwen asked softly.

Tassius moved his hand to run it through her golden tresses. “A few,” he admitted. “Pirate suppression didn’t allow for much personal time, but…” he reached for the data pad he’d set on his nightstand. “I did write one I’m fairly pleased with.” He rumbled to her in question and Gwen lifted her head, a radiant smile gracing her lips, hair mused and eyes sparkling.

“Can you read it to me?” She asked.

Tassius flared out his mandibles as he lifted the pad closer to his face. “It’s called _At Peace_ ,” he told her.

_The night is sown with stars,_

_Threaded carefully into velvet black as pitch._

_The air is soft; a whisper, a breath, sounds of_

_Insects, songs of night birds, your hand_

_Upon my chest._

_There is warmth in unsaid things; in the knowing._

_“I love you, you’re safe, we’re home,”_

_Quiet laughter, childhood innocence, games_

_Played with small hands and big ideas._

_Your eyes are prisms; a million reflected suns_

_Your words are music, you sing to me_

_In dreams, while waking,_

_In the sunlight dappled orchards and flos gardens,_

_Your song is played on precious lips, my dea._

 

_The universe twists and spins, spiraling colors_

_Hues of purple, now of indigo,_

_Seasons change, but not my heart. For you_

_Will forever be my home, my solace,_

_The greatest peace I will ever know._

He glanced back at Gwen, whose eyes shone with unshed tears. Setting the pad down, he wrapped her in his arms, as Gwen cupped his face, giving him a passionate kiss. “Welcome home, Tass,” she whispered into the still of their bedroom.

Tassius sighed, eyes fluttering shut. It was good to finally be at peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully everyone has enjoyed reading this series as much as I've enjoyed writing it. While I will continue to add smutty-one shots to "Embers" (part 5 of the series) so far as the story line is concerned, this is the soft epilogue Gwen and Tassius deserve. <3


	15. Dictionary

  1. Scortum – sexual predator or whore


  1. Spiritus Auream - A spirit of Palaven’s sun, Trebia. While not personified like human spirits with a physical body, these spirits are said to be made of pure, golden light, and are immensely powerful and revered.


  1. Aureola – A special type of crown formally worn by high ranking turians centuries ago. Resembles a halo.


  1. Coelum – The turian version of heaven, where the spirits of Trebia dwell.


  1. Dea – A word taken from the asari, loosely translates to Goddess.


  1. Erat Herba - A park in Cipritine comparable to Central Park in New York City. The Latin word literally means vegetation.


  1. Taetrian Laudatix - The ministry of citizenship rankings on Taetrus. Each Hierarchy planet has its own Laudatix.


  1. Shalta- A large, armor plated and tusked land animal native to the woodland areas of Palaven.


  1. Asinus – Palaveni word for an idiot or fool.


  1. Amicae – the turian version of a girlfriend or exclusive significant other.


  1. Quadrupes Graditur – A turian sex position similar to “doggie-style.”


  1. Nothi – A colloquial Taetrun word, basically means “bastard.”


  1. Delectamenti – A turian specialty shop on the Citadel.


  1. Taetrus Festum – A fish dish from the turian colony world, Taetrus, notable for its rich sauce.


  1. Salmo – A very large, heavy-scaled, fresh water fish, similar to an Arapaima from Earth.


  1. Domine – A polite version of “Sir” used for people outside the military. Generally used for elders.


  1. Yuba Sauce – A vegetable and meat stock sauce popular with fish.


  1. Culus – Colloquial Taetrun word for “asshole.”


  1. Carissime – A Palaveni endearment, means loosely “my dearest love.”


  1. Tevik – A predatory creature from Palaven that stalks it’s prey with elongated, graceful strides to its gait.


  1. Oserun – A ceremony that recognizes the promotion of turians to a new citizenship tier. It is a very formal, public event.


  1. Aeternum Song – Loosely translates to “heart song,” and is a type of vocalization turians make for their romantic partners. The song is specific to the mate, if a turian has more than one partner in a lifetime, the new song will vary drastically.


  1. Malum – A small sweet fruit, similar to an apple


  1. Altera Domi – Translates to “second home,” and is the name of the Bed and Breakfast run by Tassius’s family


  1. Ludos – A common game played by turian children, involves walking exactly in another person’s footprints while trying to stay in a straight line.


  1. Subplantat – A slang word for “pervert.”


  1. Flos – A type of beautiful, silver flower native to Palaven.


  1. Gantu – An armored, pungent creature, native to Taetrus which fills a similar ecological niche to that of the American Opossum.


  1. Promissum – The turian version of an engagement or proposal, refers more to the ritual of bringing another person into the clan. Has greatly fallen out of use in turian modern culture.


  1. Vinum – A type of turian wine, can come in a burgundy or sparkling variety.


  1. Corda – An older term of Palaveni origin, loosely translates to “the reason for my heart beat” and is often used between mates.


  1. Parvus – Palaveni word for “tiny one” or “lovely small thing,” used often for babies.


  1. Spona – The turian version of a fiancé, or else a person betrothed to another.


  1. Dilectæ – A Palaveni endearment, translates to “my beloved spouse.”


  1. Crustulam Cibum – A type of small meat cake filled with herbs and baked meat. A common breakfast food for turians.


  1. Xemna – A large type of herd animal used for food. The turian equivalent of a cow or beef.


  1. Louza – A type of dextro poultry. The turian version of chicken.


  1. Mexta – A short sword often used in duels. Are frequently worn by high ranking military officials during important social events.


  1. Fulgur Manus – Translated, means “lightning talons” and is a hand-to-hand combat technique used by turian biotics where their energy is focused into their claws for ripping, slashing attacks.


  1. Ad vitam est scriptor – An old Palaveni phrase, translates to “my reason for living.” An extremely intimate phrase, since turians are taught that sacrifice for the people and cause are their duty. Saying this to a mate essentially tells them they are worth more than anyone else; a radical notion for a turian.


  1. Vastum – Slang word for cowards, literally translates to garbage or waste.


  1. Pallii – The turian equivalent of a kilt, worn by males around the house. Basically, turian sweatpants.


  1. Proditor – A derogatory term for biotics. Means traitor or freak but with implications that their biotics are what makes them unclean and “other.”


  1. Crassusa – A type of tree native to Taetrus with, large, round trunks and an umbrella of mauve colored leaves at the tops. Very drought resistant.


  1. Sorden mos – A term for lowly, craven cowards of the worst variety.


  1. Nitatis – A term used to describe the act of knotting. Translates to “becoming one” since the partners are tied together for up to thirty minutes.


  1. Sorora – translates to “chosen sister” and is a term to describe a deep, familial relationship between too women unrelated by blood.


  1. Irruma – Turian curse word similar to “fuck” though not as frequently used.


  1. Rí – An infantile version of father, the human equivalent being “dada.” Used by very young turian chicks.


  1. Amor facit – The act of “making love” or sexual intercourse with intense romantic feelings behind it.


  1. Marcas Dignus – Translates to “kinship marks” and is a type of tattoo pattern used by turians to proclaim their familial relationships; i.e. mates represented by two solid lines running along the keel and children or progeny as arrows. The color can vary though the design remains the same.



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please feel free to use any of these terms in your own fics, though I'd appreciate it if you said where they came from. =)

**Author's Note:**

> Say hello on Tumblr: @wafflesrock16


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